I Had A Lover's Quarrel With the World
by Abrus
Summary: Voldemort demands a daughter. Raised reluctantly by Severus Snape after the events of Godric's Hollow, Aveline's future seems straightforward. Instead, her mother throws a curve at fate by binding her soul to two others; Draco Malfoy and the Boy-Who-Lived. Tied to her father's enemy and promised to his servants, Aveline must navigate the dark present to determine her own future.
1. Chapter 1

" _She walks in beauty, like the night of cloudless climes and starry skies; and all that's best of dark and bright meet in her aspect and her eyes; thus mellowed to that tender light, which heaven to gaudy day denies." - Lord Byron_

* * *

 _ **Prologue**_

 _ **1979**_

* * *

The air is cool and still inside of the Manor, but Narcissa knows it is about to drop several degrees.

She sits politely, with her hands folded and her ankles crossed demurely under her chair. Her spine is stiffer than what is perhaps appropriate, but she must brace herself for what is about to come.

Across from her, her sister slumps in her seat with boredom. Narcissa can remember when their mother used to scold her for slumping like that. It was eons ago.

Narcissa wishes she had something to do with her hands. She wishes she were undisciplined enough to fiddle idly with her wand, casting Dark curses nonchalantly at the wall like Bella.

She watches as another hole slowly burns through the wallpaper on the parlor wall. She flinches just a bit. That was new wallpaper.

"Bella, perhaps you could-"

"Oh, hush now, Cissy," Bellatrix smirks. Her black makeup is even thicker tonight than usual. Her raggedy lace drapes off the chair like some sort of bizarre funeral shroud. Narcissa faintly wonders how anyone could possibly be comfortable in that many layers of tight lace. She's always preferred silk.

In the room next to the parlor, she hears the hoots and whoops of the men. She subconsciously places a hand over her stomach; not all of the Death Eaters are here yet. Bellatrix had been proper enough to visit with her for a little while, but Narcissa knows she'll abandon her soon enough to join in with tonight's Dark Revel. Lucius had promised that no more Revels would be held in their home once he'd found out about her pregnancy. So far, he had kept his word. The Dark Lord had even been so kind as to place protection spells on the wife of his most loyal Death Eater.

She tries not to shudder as she remembers the cool magic sliding over her skin, coming from a wand that has murdered countless. Narcissa has always held fierce attraction for cruelty, but not of the physical kind. Now that is all that is left.

Narcissa blinks as demurely as she can and reaches for the list of stars and constellations she borrowed from the Black family library. She wants to choose the perfect one. She knows somewhere deep inside of her that this child will be a boy; Malfoys always have boys. It is the only child she will be permitted to have.

Bellatrix studies her movements with sharp eyes, and then cackles. "Going for Cygnus Junior? Hmm?"

Narcissa wrinkles her nose delicately at the mention of their father. "No."

Bellatrix cackles wildly again, and Narcissa clenches her mouth against the bile rising in her throat. Her morning sickness has just stopped after three weeks, and besides, it is now late in the evening; but Bellatrix and the depth of her madness still sicken her.

"Druella, then? Ickle Malfoy brat could be a girl. Would serve Lucius right, for all his talk about the next great era of Malfoy _men_." There is blatant contempt in Bellatrix's voice.

Narcissa's anger flares within her.

Her hormones drive her crazy. Narcissa has always been calm and collected and controlled. She cannot stand that her emotions drag her along the way they do. So far, being pregnant has been a great bore. She wants to feel her child move, wants to feel her child's heartbeat, wants her child in her arms and wants her child's nursery things to finally be shipped already so she can begin decorating.

 _Her_ child.

She already loves him. She loves him with everything she has.

Her sister is mad. Her sister is gone. Narcissa's love for her sister is purely nostalgic now. And her sister has just _insulted_ her child.

She raises one eyebrow at Bellatrix. " _Ickle Malfoy brat_ will be half a Black."

"And that is the only thing making it worthy of such a name." Bellatrix gestures towards the list of stars in Narcissa's hand with her wand, and instantly a corner of the top page lights on fire.

Narcissa's heart leaps into her throat. She loathes Dark magic. It is useless. It is cowardly. She reaches slowly into the pocket of her robes and extinguishes the flame.

She feels it the second the Dark Lord and the rest of his minions arrive in her manor.

Instantly her husband swoops into the room, his face carefully blank. She eyes the men rushing through the halls, the men that hiss at Bellatrix as she files into line with them. Her sister hisses back, entirely at ease among rapists and murderers and monsters. Then Narcissa smiles up at her husband and places her hand in his. She pretends her knees do not shake as she walks to the largest drawing room they possess.

The Dark Lord is already seated in a large armchair, in front of an empty stone fireplace. The room is shady and colder than the rest of the house.

Narcissa's eyes find those of Severus. He scans her face; he has been anxious for her since the announcement of her pregnancy. He knows what stress of this nature does to her. He knows better than anyone how fragile Narcissa is. She is no Bellatrix. She holds no stomach for the cruelty she has so much admiration for. The child growing inside of her is his godson. He has a right to be worried.

She gives him a stiff nod, making sure to turn her nose upward at the greetings of the Death Eaters lower in rank than her husband. Appearances are everything.

Her heart pounds out of her chest when her eyes slide over to meet Voldemort's. Her husband has guided her to the forefront of the room, through rows and rows of Death Eaters. She feels her husband bow low to the ground. _Appearances are everything._

"My Lord," he murmurs. His tone is pure reverence. The first time she was witness to this, she was reminded of the images in the Muggle books Andromeda used to smuggle from Muggle stores and read to her; the ones where valiant knights bowed low in front of high kings. It seemed fitting of her aristocratic Lucius. Now she is not so sure.

"Lucius." The word is a slippery sigh from the Dark Lord. His slitted eyes and nose don't match his wispy brown hair. In another world he might have been attractive, Narcissa thinks. He certainly still is to Bellatrix.

She tastes bile again at the thought.

She immediately inclines her head when her husband rises, and leaves her eyes on the floor. She will not bow. She will not curtsy. She will not prostrate herself in front of this vile creature. She is no servant of his.

"Darkest of Lords," she greets. She always comes up with clever ways of referring to him. She refuses to make him her master, even in words. He never notices. He laps up the false praise like her husband laps up power.

"Lady Malfoy. You look as radiant as always. I trust the potions I sent with your husband were beneficial to you?"

Narcissa blinks, her mind scrambling. Potions? Ah, yes. The morning sickness potions. The Dark Lord had sent them, along with his congratulations, upon hearing of her pregnancy. She had taken them from Lucius with a sparkle in her eyes and a delighted squeal, and when he had left, she had shattered the vials in the sink and watched as the potions siphoned down the drain.

She has hidden her sickness from her husband ever since.

"Incredibly beneficial, Your Darkness. I was most gracious. Thank you for such a thoughtful gift." She meets his eyes again, and feels a tickle against the corners of her mind.

"You are most welcome, Narcissa. Lucius, offer your wife a chair. This will be a long meeting, and she should not be standing in her _delicate_ condition." There is a hint of mocking under his tone, but Voldemort looks at Lucius expectantly.

Lucius is obviously confused- she is no Death Eater, out long a member of the Inner Circle- but he does as is requested and gracefully leads her to the most comfortable chair in the room.

Narcissa watches as Bellatrix throws herself to the floor in front of Lord Voldemort. Her black hair fans out on the expensive hardwood, and her back arches as she folds herself against her knees.

 _The higher you are, the harder you fall,_ Narcissa thinks wryly.

"Bella," the Dark Lord nods, barely glancing at her. As always, Rodolphus seems pained at his wife's submission to another man. He also seems resigned.

Bellatrix scrambles to her feet and to the left of the Dark Lord. Lucius sighs next to Narcissa- out of frustration, boredom, or more reverence she can't tell- and takes his place to the right.

"My friends," Voldemort begins. His voice is low and almost as Dark as his magic. "Tonight, we gather together to Revel; to Revel in chaos and Darkness and despair. We gather to celebrate victories of comrades, and to deal out justice and punishment to Mudbloods and those that sympathize with them."

 _Andromeda. Nymphadora._ Panic flashes through Narcissa, as cold and shady as this room in her beloved Manor. She pushes it back and places both palms on her flat stomach. She desperately wishes she had a list of names to distract her now.

What could the Dark Lord have to say that she would possibly need to hear?

The Death Eaters cheer in agreement to their Lord's small speech. Then he dismisses them, and all but the Inner Circle file out. Narcissa sits unnaturally still, waiting. She hopes she will be asked to leave soon. Considering she's still permitted to sit in a chair instead of standing in the half circle gathered around Voldemort, she seriously doubts it.

"My most loyal of servants…" Voldemort begins, then pauses to collect his thoughts a moment. He stands, pushing his chair almost into the fireplace behind him in his haste. "I have been giving a personal objective much consideration. I would like your thoughts on it."

Narcissa's hands begin to shake. The Dark Lord never asks for the opinions of his followers unless he has already made up his mind. What horrendous thing is he going to do? Is she sitting in this room, in this chair, because he is about to propose a raid on Andromeda's home? Does he know about the letters hidden in her bureau drawer? Does he know about the secret photograph of her niece, the one in which her hair changes color over and over? Does he know how much love she still has for her bloodtraitor family?

Love and traitors are two things the Dark Lord will never tolerate.

"In Pureblood society, it is important to carry on the legacy of ones lineage."

 _What?_

All the breath leaves Narcissa's lungs. The rush of air is noticed by all in the room, and she feels lightheaded. With relief or a different kind of sheer terror, she doesn't know. The hardest emotions for Narcissa to evaluate are her own.

The Dark Lord raises an eyebrow at her. "Lady Malfoy. You look very pale. Are you well?"

This is her chance. Her chance to claim illness and go lie upstairs in her bed until Voldemort leaves her home.

But she must know his new plans. If he is including her in this, it must directly affect her. And now, whatever affects her affects her child.

She'll stay.

"I am fine, oh Dark Lord. I apologize. Sometimes my condition can cause shortness of breath. It will pass momentarily."

It is a blatant lie, but the only thing the Dark Lord knows about pregnant women is that to kill one is to add two to his personal body count.

He blinks at her in irritation and continues. "As you all know, I come from a most noble and reputable bloodline. It dates back to Salazar Slytherin himself."

The room full of Death Eaters all nod and mumble in respect. Narcissa resists the urge to roll her eyes and focuses on calming her heart rate. Her blood pounding through her veins this quickly cannot possibly be healthy for her child.

"I shall be immortal."

This is not the first time Voldemort has declared that, but it still sends terror throughout her body. She won't imagine a lifetime of groveling to this man. It would drive her madder than her sister.

"As such, I will have no need for an heir. However, I have found myself considering it. I came across a very powerful spell in my research weeks ago; it reveals the most perfect mate to the caster. I would very much like a protégée. There are times when I need more than the most loyal of my servants in an area where I cannot be present myself. Also, I would like for the line to continue. I cannot deny wanting my blood to run through the veins of another. A dynasty would be the highest form of flattery."

Narcissa presses her stomach more firmly into her hands. She wishes she could feel her child. She truly does. How can he consider a child a thing and not a beautiful honor? To carry the young man her child will undoubtedly become is the thing she is most grateful for; she has never considered the fact that he will have her blood to be important past the fact that it will be pure and he will have a station in society always secure for him.

"The dilemma I have, you see, is whether or not to cast the spell."

Bellatrix speaks first. Narcissa knew she would. There is a manic glint in Bellatrix's eyes. Though her husband is standing right next to her, Bellatrix desperately and blatantly wants to be the one to carry the Dark Lord's child.

"My Lord. The spell has risks. What if the one it decides is your best mate is a woman who is on the side of the Light? Surely she would be alerted. She would run from the honor of being the one to carry-"

"Yes, yes." Voldemort interrupts her and scrapes his nails through his hair. It is the most agitatedly human thing Narcissa has ever seen him do. "But the woman who is my best mate is surely the one that will instill the child with the most power. I will produce my offspring through force if necessary."

Narcissa's hands spring from her stomach to the arms of her chair. She digs her nails into the soft upholstery. Rape. He is speaking of rape as though it as just as common as making love.

She has never felt more grateful to have a doting husband that makes every act of theirs pleasurable. He is one of the few that refuses to degrade himself and her by forcing himself on another woman. That is where she has drawn the line. She has told him so. If he rapes someone, she will know, and she will leave. Money, prestige, and reputation be damned.

She scans the Dark Lord and his mutilated body. She shudders at the thought of him doing such a thing.

Even across the room, Lucius senses her unease. "My Lord, I do not believe the spell to be worth the risk. It would raise too high of an alert if a Light witch was chosen. And what if a Mudblood was chosen? It would have all been for not. That being said, I do not believe your most perfect mate would be a non-pure Light witch."

"My thoughts exactly, Lucius."

Dolohov and Rosier shift uneasily. Severus quirks an eyebrow. "My Lord, the gender of the heir would not be guaranteed. Even with the most advanced medical spellwork in Saint Mungo's that would not be possible."

Voldemort agrees. "Another risk, Severus."

Crabbe, Narcissa thinks, has never been the brightest. He has brute force, and so Voldemort sends him on the most high profile of missions. He stands and scratches his head now, obviously confused.

"Also, my Lord… there is something I must inform you of. I would much rather do so in private, however." Severus says.

Narcissa knows that she will most certainly be dismissed now. She can feel the words that will set her free right there in the open air.

It's an incredible shock when instead, Voldemort says, "Malfoys, Bellatrix. You stay. The rest of you, go wait with the others. None of what we've spoken of is to leave this room."

The Death Eaters give her looks of envy and contempt, but obediently shuffle out of the room and into the hallway.

A cold sweat breaks out between her shoulder blades.

"My Lord. A prophecy has been made. A prophecy concerning you, and a child not yet born."

Voldemort is silent for several long moments. "Continue."

"I overheard a Seer in a meeting with Dumbledore. She made the prophecy in the middle of the meeting."

"Out with it, Severus. What were the contents of this prophecy?"

Narcissa watches, more than a little interested. Her own Sight had been squashed by her mother. It had been miniscule to begin with.

" _The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches…Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies…"_

Narcissa's breath catches. No one in the room speaks or breathes. This is more than a pregnant pause. It's the instant of silence between life and death.

"That is all?" Voldemort finally asks.

Severus hesitates. The hesitation is barely noticeable. It would not be noticeable at all to someone that does not know him as intimately as Narcissa. Then he murmurs, "Yes, My Lord."

Everyone is always murmuring around the Dark Lord.

"Thank you, Severus. Your information is always most useful."

Voldemort sinks back into his chair. He is slumping. He slumps almost in the same way Bellatrix does, with an air of nonchalant power. It unnerves Narcissa. His finger is against his lips and he remains unblinking. She has never seen anyone so deep in thought.

She doesn't know how long it takes him to resurface from his own mind, but it is quite a while. She's glad he didn't ask her to stand.

After an eternity of terrifying contemplation, the Dark Lord stands once more. His back is straight and she knows he has solidified the decision he made before consulting any of them.

"I will perform the spell tonight."

Narcissa's heart sinks deep inside of her chest. She never believed in the gods the Neo-Druids of her youth mentioned from time to time (and worshipped with free love and flowers in their hair right along with filthy Muggles), but now she sends up a plea to any of them willing to listen. She would not wish this curse on any woman.

She is terrified of a child not yet born. What kind of mutant will the Dark Lord create? In her mind, Narcissa remembers Muggle pictures in black and white, moving as Wizard photographs did, on a large screen. Andromeda had always been fond of Muggle cinemas. She used to sneak Narcissa out with her when she was very young; she had nightmares of a beast called an _alien_ eating its way out of a woman's torso for months, but to run to the comfort of her mother's arms meant to betray Andromeda, and she would never have done that.

Surely a Muggle alien would be a blessing compared to the Dark Lord's child.

Narcissa takes a steady breath to quell the rising hysterical laughter in her throat.

She watches with a sharp, observant gaze as the Dark Lord pulls a very old piece of parchment from his robes. She cannot read the writing on it; it looks Welsh.

She can tell from the glimpse Severus got of it that he can read it, however. His face is ashen. She dares to raise an eyebrow at him in curiosity.

The brief flicker of his black eyes towards her speaks volumes: _Not now._

Voldemort raises his wand, and instantly the Death Eaters assembled fall to their knees around him. Narcissa, for the first time, wishes she were standing so she could do the same. She has been present when the Dark Lord casts. His power when performing complicated spells induces such a wave of vertigo that it sends anyone in a ten foot radius sprawling to the floor. Instead, she merely bows her head demurely.

The evil bastard has just raised his wand when a pure white dove appears quite literally out of thin air.

Voldemort does not jump at the unexpected sight as Narcissa does, nor does he flinch when the bird's feathers brush against him as the rest of the Death Eaters do. Instead, he calmly reaches up and plucks a thin envelope from the beak of the bird.

When he goes to curse it on a whim, the bird disappears again. Narcissa flinches, sure his anger will rise, but it does not. Instead, he arches one thin eyebrow, and opens the letter.

Narcissa sees the words _Tom Marvolo Riddle_ written in very old script on the front, but it is gone in a blaze of fire as soon as she does. Voldemort drops the ashes to the ground, still reading.

Narcissa keeps her head bowed the entire ten minutes that Voldemort is scanning the letter.

Truly, it was not that big of an envelope. She wishes to send flowers to whoever stunned him enough to make him reread something so short, and also stalled the damnation of an innocent woman.

Then the Dark Lord starts to laugh, and Narcissa wishes she had taken the potions he sent, because the sound makes her stomach turn. Bile rises in the back of her throat and stings the end of her tongue, but she swallows hard and ignores the feeling.

"This is excellent! Truly excellent! The spell is no longer even required."

Bellatrix is the only one brave enough- or insane enough- to say anything. Her words drip acid and a promise of torture. "A volunteer from among your ranks, my Lord?"

The Dark Lord is so positively _giddy_ that he doesn't even punish Bellatrix for her insolence. "No, no, Bella. Not quite. It seems my so called _perfect mate_ has sought me."

Bellatrix shrieks in wordless rage, and then yelps when Voldemort sends a flashy curse her way. Afterwards, she seethes in silence.

Narcissa sits and waits.

Finally, after several minutes of contemplation, Voldemort looks at her husband kneeling on the floor. Voldemort is all business once more, giddiness locked away. But there is no denying he is immensely pleased about something. She watches as Severus's shoulders tense slightly and unadulterated terror sets in, licking its way down her spine and through her mind.

"Rise, Lucius."

To her husband's credit, he is not shaking when he does so. Her fingers tremble, but nothing else. She wants to be brave like Lucius. She always has. (Secretly, in the very depths of her subconscious where she composes letters to Andromeda and spots purchases she is too cowardly to make for her niece, where she is still kind and unassuming and unselfish, she likes to think her husband would have made an admirable Gryffindor, were he not so power-hungry.)

"My Lord?"

"You are quite certain that your wife will bear you a male child?"

Lucius blinks once. "Yes, my Lord. It is all but guaranteed. The Malfoys have borne male children for-"

"Lovely. You see, Lucius, I am quite invested in the welfare of your offspring."

"I am most thankful my Lord, but why-"

"Because, Lucius. When considering my own progeny, I had a bit of an epiphany. I do not wish for any to have my name. I am the sole heir to the noble bloodline to which I belong. Therefore, my future _child,_ " Voldemort hisses the word as though it is akin to _Mudblood_ , "must be a female. In that way, she may marry a pureblood and continue my line without the burden of a name."

Narcissa's blood freezes in her veins and there is an anguished scream stuck deep inside her chest.

"I have just been guaranteed that, among other things, my child shall be a female."

Of course he had. The Dark Lord got anything he wanted, even the soul of her unborn child.

"I would like to arrange a betrothal with you, Lucius."

Lucius dares to allow his eyes to flicker towards her. Voldemort stares penetratingly at her husband, not sparing her even a glance.

No wonder he placed those protection spells on her. No wonder he took such an interest in her very recent announcement. She has carried her child inside of her barely a month, and he is already plotting its destruction.

He has taken what is hardly hers.

"You see, when I placed the protection spells on your lovely wife, I cast another. Just as a bit of a… trial. Regardless of the gender of my own child, I needed to make certain it would always have a _guardian_. A strong male betrothal if it were female, as I hoped, or a strong ally and General if it were male. I cast a spell to gauge the potential magical strength of the latest addition to the Malfoy lineage."

The Dark Lord turns to her, and it takes every ounce of strength she has to lift her head and meet his eyes. Narcissa marvels at how she can hide the hate she feels.

"Lady Malfoy, you should be quite honored. Your child has the potential to have the strongest magical core I've observed in decades."

Narcissa's eyes widen, and she can take no more. She bows her head once more and her chest heaves on a sob. She only allows herself one, but in the eyes of the Dark Lord, she is broken.

He smiles.

She always knew her child was meant for greatness. But not like this. Never like this.

How many lives will the life growing inside of her take in the name of the beast in front of her?

"Look at her," The Dark Lord orders, and obediently every eye in the room turns on her. "She is speechless," Voldemort mocks.

Severus's mind reaches out to hers, reassuring her. He shows her images of students in the Great Hall of Hogwarts, of students laughing between classes, of playgrounds and pet stores and small training brooms in Diagon Alley. He tries in his own way to remind her that her child's life isn't over before it begins.

For the first time in her life, Narcissa does not believe Severus.

"You are dismissed, Narcissa," the Dark Lord snaps. She jumps once more in her chair, and then stands. She bows stiffly, and scurries for the door. Narcissa is not brave. Not like Lucius. Not like Andromeda. Not like Gryffindors. Certainly not enough to save her child. Narcissa is merely pathetic and devastated and more afraid than she has ever been in her entire life.

The beady eyes of Dolohov, Crouch Jr., and Pettigrew follow her flight up the stairs of her Manor. She rounds a corner and falls to her knees in the dark shadows of her home.

Then she weeps for the lives she cannot save.

* * *

The woman waits in the shadows created by the rocks.

She has been waiting for this day for a year. She knew what he would seek even before he himself did, and now she will give it to him.

Their world is going to change, and very soon. He will have his dynasty. His progeny will touch and inspire every corner of the globe. Dark or Light. For better, or for worse. She has Seen it, and so shall it be.

He is precisely three minutes late, but she knew he would be.

His almost non-existent eyebrows raise at the sight of her standing there in shadows, but not bothering to hide herself from him. Perhaps she is more beautiful than he was expecting. She smiles a bit at the thought.

"Tom."

He scowls at the sound of his given name, but makes no move to harm her. "What is your name?"

She smirks at him, and it clearly disturbs him. She doubts anyone has looked at him in this way, as an equal, in a very long time. If ever. "That's not important. Call me Her. Or She, depending on the grammatical necessities."

His eyes flicker with curiosity once more, but he lets it go. "And you are going to give me what I came for? What we agreed upon?"

"Perhaps," she muses, and his eyes glint with anger. Oh, his eyes. They are very expressive. Much more so than she thought they would be. "If you agree to a few conditions."

She watches his frustration mount inside of him. He is very impatient and petulant. She will have to guard against that in their offspring.

"What conditions, witch? You already guaranteed the gender-"

"I must cast several charms before we conceive the girl. You mustn't interfere in any way. I also get to keep her for the first year after her birth. You will receive her on the following Samhain. You may name her anything you like, so long as the name _Morgane_ is included. It is my bloodline's tradition. Afterwards, you will never attempt to find me, contact me, or otherwise associate yourself with me in any way unless it is for the sole benefit of our child, and is not for any of your own personal gain."

She can tell by the dubious expression on his face that he has not thought of the Old Ways in a very long time, and puts little stock in them. So much the better; perhaps she might be able to sway events in her own way after all. It takes him a moment to calculate the date.

"And if I disagree? If I demand access to my child before the year is up? You agreed in the letter that she was entirely mine, to do with as I pleased-"

"Tell me, oh fearsome Dark Lord, do you have the means or the desire to care for a helpless, pitiful infant?" Her words are sharp, biting, and mocking. If she were anyone else, he would have cast her to the ground, writhing in pain at the very least for her tongue. For some reason, he restrains himself.

It is not as though she didn't master defenses against such petty curses as the Cruciatus a long time ago, anyway.

Then Tom Riddle's anger starts to melt away, and he laughs in a giddy, high way.

"Do we have an agreement?"

"But of course." He chuckles, and gestures for her to step forward and perform any spells she may need to.

He is surprised when she does not pull out a flimsy wand, but instead begins instantly casting, using only her hands to perform the complicated spells. She simply holds her palms out in front of her, towards the sky; the magic in the air on this island is so thick it takes almost no effort on her part to perform spells many millennia old.

The lust and the hunger for power grows in his eyes with each spell she casts. As disturbing as his physical body might be, she cannot help but feel a small thrill at this man in front of her.

At least he never performed the soul mate spell. She would never have been able to break away from him then. She would have hated having unwavering devotion for a man she considers a coward.

When the spells are finally over, a glowing ball of pure magical energy erupts in the middle of the island. The waves against the shore rock higher than ever, the wind picks up speed, cracks appear in the earth where it had been strong and smooth before, and the lush greenery bursts into flames.

Tom studies the large mass of magic, trying to discern its ever changing colors and textures. She knows even he is amazed at such raw, primal, and incredible power. "What is this?"

"Magic, in its purest form. The island we have met on is in the middle of the Atlantic; it is where the four major ley lines meet. Quite the perfect place to conceive a child meant to bring the world to its knees with power, yes?" What she does not mention is that these are no normal ley lines, but the ley lines of all the world's elements. The man in front of her has no idea what kind of power he is about to become partly responsible for bringing into this world; he only knows that it is immense, and that he wants it. The thought amuses her.

Their eyes meet, and in his she sees only death. She sees the path she could have chosen, at that crossroads long ago.

She lifts her chin, and then he is on her.

* * *

 _ **1981**_

Lord Voldemort has almost forgotten his child.

Almost, but not quite. He had been notified of the day of her birth, and on that day had named a loyal Death Eater her official caretaker. He has not thought of her since.

It has been quite the busy time for him. He has had much killing to do, much torturing to commit, much power to gain. He basks in the fear of an entire nation, and wonders idly what he will do when he takes over the rest of Europe. Move on to Asia, perhaps?

Of course, all of that must come after tonight.

"Thank you for your services, Wormtail," he whispers. He doesn't feel the need to speak any louder. Quiet can be a very nice weapon, when used appropriately.

 _Wormtail_ shivers on the floor at his feet. The name has always amused him. It is entirely fitting, and it is even better that it constantly reminds the rat of the friends he betrayed so easily.

Voldemort holds no respect for those unwilling to die at his hand.

"Tonight, my brothers and sisters, marks a new era." He hisses at his followers, and like a well-oiled machine, their answering hisses rise in the air.

His eyes meet those of Bellatrix, and she simpers under his gaze. He feels a flicker of irritation, and a bit of lust that quickly fades.

"Tonight, I destroy those that have so often defied me. Tonight, I destroy another enemy that will die under my wand as so many foolish others."

It has been too long since Voldemort has personally killed anyone instead of sending a team of his Death Eaters to a raid- almost a week. His blood is boiling in his veins, and his soul aches deliciously at the prospect of tearing itself open once more and letting the darkness in.

Voldemort watches the quiet anguish of Severus Snape. Usually his servant would be standing most loyally by his side. Instead, he has chosen to stand in the far corner of the room tonight.

Humor and vindictive cruelty battle inside of him. "Tonight, I may even bring back one of my most faithful a new pet."

Severus does not flinch, but he doesn't have to. Satisfaction washes through Voldemort. He twirls his wand carelessly against his fingers, relishing in the smooth wood that will end someone's existence very soon.

 _Glorious. Everything is glorious._

He hopes there will be blood this time.

And if it happens to be the filthy blood of the woman his servant so desires, all the better.

"When I return, we shall have the largest Revel yet!"

All of his Death Eaters cheer, and then he is gone, swooping out the door and into the night.

Godric's Hollow is little more than a ghost town at this time of the evening. He leaves its outskirts, his footsteps making no noise. There is an energy in the air tonight that is irresistible. His eyes narrow at the sight of the modest home Wormtail had informed him of.

There is surprisingly a light still glowing in one of the windows. He can see movement behind it, outlined by faint silhouettes. How beautiful it will be when those warm bodies are finally cold on the floor in front of him.

They have it coming.

He is about to take another step when he hears a faint pop. Next to him is suddenly a woman, where there had not been a woman before.

He is surprised to notice she is wearing the same dress as the first night he saw her, the night he took her and owned her for a few hours. Her dark hair frames her dark eyes. Everything about her is dark except for her skin. It practically glows in this moonlight. Her body shows no sign of bearing his child.

He grits his teeth in irritation. "I am busy."

"I have a delivery for you. This one I could not send by dove."

And she holds out to him a tiny girl. She has hair a few shades darker than his own, and a few shades lighter than Hers. That is practically all he can see of her, she is wrapped up so tightly. The fabric is smooth and unlike anything he has ever seen before.

It takes him an entire minute to work out that the disgusting _babe_ she is presenting him with is his own. His desired heir. Today is Samhain by the Old calendar. He had _almost_ forgotten.

"Take her to a man named Severus Snape. He is her caretaker in the event that I am unavailable. Which I clearly _am_." He gestures towards the house. He does not want the light to flicker off before he barges in. He craves a fight, however puny it may be. Sleeping targets don't often scream.

She raises an eyebrow. "House call?"

He merely sneers at Her, his eyes darting down to his daughter, and then back to Her.

"I refuse to hand her to anyone but you. We had an agreement. Besides," She snorts, looking detachedly at the house, "if it's a simple house call, it shouldn't be much of a burden."

When he opens his mouth to agitatedly protest once more, She glares at him. "If you do not take her now, I will take her. For good. You will never see her again."

Awkwardly, Voldemort snatches the child from Her hands. He uncomfortably tucks her into the crook of his left arm. He needs his right free to use his wand. His enemies must be destroyed tonight, regardless of this inconvenience.

"What are you naming her?"

Ah, yes. The name. He had given it much consideration after their coupling, and had chosen it almost a year ago. "Aveline Atropos Morgane Enigme."

With one last lingering look at their daughter, She vanishes.

He snarls at the space She once inhabited and grasps his daughter more securely. The girl does not stir in his arms.

He storms up the pathway and in his vast irritation, blows the side door and half of the wall to pieces. He pays no mind as it showers down around him. He drinks in the sound of a woman screaming inside.

"Lily, take Harry and-"

"No, James, I-"

"Go! Go! I love you, Lily, you and Harry, now _go_ -"

He faintly hears feet pounding frantically up stairs. He enters the house and dodges a nasty jinx sent his way from around the corner. He feels nothing but disgust for these people. They could have joined his ranks. They could have been mighty, and instead chose to live in filth. They will pay, as all who defy him do.

Only three more curses are sent his way. He chases the dark-haired man up the stairs. He catches him on the landing. He watches as the light fades from his eyes and he slumps to the ground.

 _Avada Kedavra_ has always been incredibly effective.

He wishes to play more with his next victim. He wants to hear her scream some. If she agrees to come with him and join his ranks, he will only torture her a bit before handing her over to Severus. Absently, he checks on the child on his arm. She is still sleeping. He does not think to question this.

He glides up the rest of the stairs. He can afford to waste seconds now. The woman and her disgusting child are not going anywhere.

He comes upon the room, and takes in the scene; she is on her knees, her red hair hopelessly tangled in shrapnel from the wall. Her son is in a crib in front of her.

"Mummy loves you. Daddy loves you. Be brave, Harry-"

"How charming," Voldemort mocks. His voice is higher than normal at the veiled insult. Killing makes him more excited than anything else in the world. He still craves the sight of blood. He wonders if hers is redder than her hair.

She whirls around, on her feet in seconds. "No, please, not Harry, not him-"

"I am going to kill your son."

She turns even paler at the revelation. Her breaths begin to shorten with her sobs. It is a pity, Voldemort thinks, that her last breaths are so short. None of his victims ever think to lengthen their last ones and enjoy them. Stupid filth.

"No. No. Please, not Harry. Please! I'll do anything! Not Harry, not my baby boy, no."

"I will let you go. Step aside, foolish girl, and you may live."

She does not hesitate. Her word is no longer a plea, but a suicide note with steely resolve. Her emerald eyes burn, and he can see why Severus is so enchanted by her. She would make a tantalizing little slave. " _No_."

After a flash of blazing green light, Lily Potter is dead on the floor. He is disappointed by the lack of blood, but she did let out a satisfying, shrill wail.

Young Harry Potter gurgles in his crib. Voldemort's own daughter is still blissfully sleeping. He grins as he peers over the wooden railings.

He sees the same green eyes that he just eternally shut. How striking, to get to close the same pair of eyes twice.

" _Avada Kedavra!"_

Voldemort's world explodes, and all he knows is pain more brutal than any he has ever inflicted, pain more agonizing than any he has ever personally experienced.

And then he is nothing.

In the smoldering remains of the house, Harry Potter begins to howl. Flung thirteen feet away from him, Aveline slowly opens her eyes and silently begins to cry.

* * *

That same moment, great distances away, Draco Malfoy jerks from his sleep very abruptly and begins screaming at the top of his lungs.

Narcissa sits up in bed instantly. Cold terror fills her very being. No child should ever scream that way; he sounds as though he's being murdered where he lies. Lucius sits up in their bed next to her, but she is already tugging on a robe and sprinting down the hall.

There are three house elves already in the nursery, trying desperately to hush her son. He refuses. His little face is red and he gasps on great sobs. She grabs her son from the terrified elves, checking his entire body for some sort of injury or ailment. Draco is a beautiful child in both appearances and temperament; he had rarely fussed at night even as a newborn. Screams like this are entirely unexpected.

She can find nothing wrong with him.

Lucius is by her side immediately. "What's the matter with him?"

"I don't know!" Narcissa's voice is almost a screech. "Nothing, from what I can tell!"

"Perhaps it was a nightmare. Do babies get nightmares?" There is a hint of panic in Lucius's voice.

Narcissa wracks her brain and comes up blank. "I don't know _that,_ either!"

"Mistress, if Nanny may interrupt, Mistress, Nanny knows how to calm Baby Master Draco, Mistress." A small, old elf tugs on the hem of Narcissa's robe calmly. Nanny has been passed around almost all of the Pureblood families for years, bought and sold interchangeably when one bloodline has a new member. She has been invaluable to Narcissa. She's thinking about keeping the old elf for good, other families be damned.

"Yes, yes, what is it, Nanny?"

"Nanny can make Baby Master Draco a Sleeping Drought, Mistress. Nanny knows how to mix it with milk. It will not harm Baby Master Draco. He will sleep as he always does, Mistress. Night terrors are not so uncommon in babies, Mistress."

Narcissa relaxes, and begins cooing to her son, rocking him steadily back and forth in her arms. He is over a year old, and she still feels as though she delivered him yesterday. Lucius is even worse; he is incredibly protective of their child. Taking his cue from Narcissa, he nods to Nanny.

"Yes, Nanny, do so. Quickly."

"Yes, Master Malfoy. Nanny be quick. One moment, Master Malfoy." And Nanny disappears with a small pop.

It doesn't take long after Nanny's return for Draco to fall back into an uneasy sleep. Lucius kisses his son's forehead and meanders down to his study for a strong brandy. Narcissa resolves to go to the kitchens and mix more milk and Sleeping Droughts herself in case Draco wakes once more.

She is passing one of the drawing rooms when she senses the Manor wards tingle. Someone is at her home in the middle of the night. She wraps her robe tighter around her and scurries to the front door. She yanks it open, and Severus stumbles into her arms.

He is freezing to the bone, and holds some sort of bundle haphazardly in his arms. He is shaking with uncontrollable sobs, and Narcissa instantly aches for him. She knows what this means.

Lily Potter was not spared.

Severus presses himself against her, buries his face into her neck. Together they awkwardly fall to a heap on the floor, and with a flick of her wrist she shuts the heavy front door.

Severus's cries echo through the foyer, haunting and hallow. His entire body trembles.

"I'm so sorry," Narcissa whispers.

He blubbers something incoherent, and she squeezes him tighter.

It is only after they have sat in the chilly foyer for several long minutes, grieving the loss of a Mudblood together, that she realizes the bundle he is holding is moving against her.

Narcissa does not shriek -she is far too full of decorum for that- but she does gasp when she draws back from Severus and sees a small baby girl tucked into a blanket and wrapped in his jacket.

"Severus Snape! What in Merlin's name-"

"It is _his._ " Severus snarls the word. "The heir of our esteemed Dark Lord."

Shock settles into her stomach. She never expected a tiny beast to be so undeniably beautiful.

"May I?" she breathes before she is even aware of what she is doing.

Severus all but throws the child at her.

She carefully unfolds the strange blanket. The fabric is entirely unknown to her, but it is smoother and warmer than silk could ever be. Underneath is a child almost the same age as her Draco. She has dark hair, and a perfect little nose, and full lips.

Narcissa does not understand how she can feel so much affection for a child that will undoubtedly murder hundreds.

"Where is Voldemort?" she asks. How did Severus end up with the child?

"He's gone."

It takes Narcissa several moments. "Gone where?"

She strokes the child's cheek and the girl curls into her hand and chest. Her heart melts a bit.

"No, Narcissa. I mean the Dark Lord, the most evil man of all time, is _gone._ "

 _Now_ Narcissa shrieks.

She summons Lucius, and he takes one look at the child that is most decidedly not theirs in her arms, and one look at Severus's devastated face, and demands answers. They both listen as Severus tells them about how he received a letter from the baby girl's mother, giving him her name and Voldemort's location; how he rushed to the Potter home only to find it already destroyed, Aveline lying in the same tarnished room as Harry Potter; how he had held Lily's body as long as he could, only leaving when he heard the great footsteps and sobs of Rubeus Hagrid, and how he had gathered up his charge and Apparated directly to the Manor.

Narcissa sits in stunned silence. She was never a fan of the Dark Lord, but Lucius had a bit of protection under his reign. Now, they will undoubtedly have to answer to the Ministry, and the Wizarding World at large. She thinks of Bellatrix, and how madly devastated she will be; undoubtedly she will cause mass amounts of death and destruction at the news. Then she thinks of Andromeda; can she associate with her freely once more? Can her Draco make play dates with Andromeda's Nymphadora?

The baby in her arms curls her fingers around one of Narcissa's, rubbing the large diamond of her engagement ring. She smiles a bit at the child.

She thinks of her cousin, Sirius Black. He was raised, for all intents and purposes, to become the head of the Black House, and to turn as Dark as his name implied. But he had been sorted into Gryffindor of all Houses, and had become best friends with… with…

Well. No use crying over spilt blood. Not now. Not when it's all over.

Narcissa smiles wider at the little girl in her arms. She truly is quite beautiful, and even with the Dark Lord gone, she knows her husband holds no desire for another child. And perhaps, even with her heritage, the child will be something entirely different. Perhaps tiny Aveline will be a Sirius instead of a Bellatrix. It would certainly give Narcissa an excuse to buy the incredibly fashionable child-size dresses she admires from time to time in Diagon Alley.

She looks up to find Severus staring blankly into the fireplace. His entire will to live is gone. She can see it in his eyes; there is nothing there any longer. If he doesn't find some sort of motivation, she knows he will wither away to nothing.

Severus has been her best friend since the day she was married to Lucius. He was the only one that saw her as an individual instead of the wife of a Death Eater. She knows more about him than anyone else does, and he understands her.

She refuses to lose him to the haunting memory of a bloody Gryffindor.

"Severus," she says quietly. His head snaps up, the flames creating deep shadows on his face. He almost looks like a corpse himself, so deep is his grief. "Severus, dear, what do you plan to do with the girl?"

Severus blinks slowly several times. Lucius watches curiously; he does not know Severus as well as Narcissa does. He does not know the depth of his love for a dead woman.

Slowly, Severus's gaze turns contemplative. He was always an intelligent man; perhaps his intelligence will become his salvation now that his heart has been shattered.

"I am going to… to visit someone."

Narcissa knows he means Dumbledore. He had confided in her and only she, what his promise to Dumbledore had been in exchange for his help in hiding the Potters. She had intended to join him in his secret rebellion against the Dark Lord, and when the time was right, she had intended to inform her son of her traitorousness, and allow him to choose his own path. She could never escape the Dark, but she could try her best to kill it from the inside as a spy with Severus. She had hoped her son would choose to do the same when the time came.

Voldemort had made many, many mistakes when he decided to hunt down Lily Potter.

Narcissa and her husband share a worried glance as Snape slams the front door behind him. Then Lucius bends and kisses her on the forehead.

"Sometime tomorrow, I shall turn myself in to the Ministry," Lucius says to her quite calmly. He smirks at her, the same smirk that had disarmed her entirely when they had been courting, and then trudges sleepily up the stairs and back to their room.

Narcissa glances down at the sleeping child in her arms.

She doesn't look like Tom Riddle at all.

Narcissa Apparates the both of them upstairs, into Draco's nursery. She conjures an identical crib for Aveline, and places her gently inside. Nanny is snoozing lightly in a chair next to Draco. She can handle whatever arises before morning.

Narcissa goes back to sleep next to her husband, and rests easily for the first time since the Dark Lord's rise.

* * *

Sirius Black laughs manically as he is dragged away in chains in broad daylight.

* * *

Hagrid hands over a snoozing Harry to Dumbledore the night after the fall of He Who Must Not Be Named. He had quite a time, transporting him back to Hogwarts, where Poppy was waiting to heal him.

She had been able to do nothing for the lightning shaped cut.

Dumbledore decides it may make quite a handy scar.

* * *

Severus stares down at the daughter of the man who had murdered the only woman he had ever loved.

Narcissa has somehow managed to overlook the girl's heritage entirely, and spends as much time cooing softly to her as she does to her own son. The two babies get along quite well.

As it turns out, Aveline has hazel eyes. They are the only hint that she belongs to Tom Riddle, and are incredibly stunning; sometimes they appear almost golden. Other times, they are as dark as her soul probably is and as dark as her father's eyes used to be. And still other times, when the light shines in just the right way, they seem to be a deep emerald green.

Severus has always had a weakness for green eyes; even sort-of-green hazel eyes. And now he has a plan.

According to Dumbledore, Voldemort will rise once more and return to claim the life that he failed to take- Harry Potter's. He will also be expecting Severus to have taken care of his heir. When he does rise, Severus Snape will be ready. When he does rise, Voldemort will fall once more, for eternity.

And his own daughter will be his demise.

* * *

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I do, however, own all original characters that may appear here.**

 **I have decided to begin this story today in honor of Alan Rickman. Rest in peace.**


	2. Chapter 2

Severus Snape quickly learns that his plan to foil the Dark Lord by using Aveline against him is going to have to be put on the backburner.

Severus is a master of potions, Legilimency, and Occlumency. He likes to believe himself an unofficial master of many other things, such as the Defense Against the Dark Arts.

He knows next to nothing about parenting. All he knows is that his parents did a horrible job of it. Severus wishes to be nothing like his mother or Tobias.

Narcissa helps him navigate the uncharted territory; Draco is a month older than Aveline, so she experiences infant milestones roughly four weeks before Severus himself does, and tells him what to expect.

Being able to delve into the tiny girl's mind helps; he knows her most basic of cravings- the need to eat, the need to be rocked back and forth for hours on end (his existence is _most_ miserable), the need to be changed or the need to roll over.

Draco has been walking for two months and talking for much longer, and yet Aveline refuses to do anything but sit and stare at him with all too knowing eyes. The small flat he procured after taking the girl has been a train wreck for a week, because as stubborn as she is about walking, the little demon _can_ crawl. He is considering hiring a house elf. Or seven.

He hates children. He hates _living_.

He can't wait to get to Hogwarts for his first term as a teacher. Narcissa has agreed to let Aveline stay with their family during the day, until he can Floo to the manor and pick her up at night. Keeping his nightly absences from Dumbledore is going to be exceedingly difficult.

Severus is already doubting the decision to keep the child's existence, and his role in it, from Dumbledore. But if he were to tell the old man, then he would most definitely start reworking his Grand Design to include Aveline, and probably begin manipulating her to fit his mold right away. The Potter boy (Lily's child Lily's child _Lily's_ child _**Lily's child**_ ) has already been shunned to the Muggle world because Dumbledore considered it the best for everyone. What would the old man deem fit for the daughter of the Darkest wizard known to mankind?

Feed her to the thestrals, most likely. Severus himself considered it the first time she burst into tears. Strangely, as long as that odd blanket she arrived with is wrapped around her, she sleeps peacefully through the night. He'll have to try throwing the thing at her the next time she wails. She refuses to walk or talk, but the bloody babe can already stare at her own toy block construction and critically evaluate where best to place the next piece. Perhaps her motor skills have developed enough that she could catch.

His lips curl, and he only straightens them out when Draco totters over to him and places a fat white rose on his knee. Narcissa had insisted they take the children outdoors for some fresh air, and now he is sitting in the stifling summer heat, waiting for the woman to come to her senses and go back inside where there are Cooling charms in place.

He glances over at his charge, sitting happily on Draco's pale blue blanket, surrounded by flowers. Draco has been picking them and placing them around Aveline all afternoon. Narcissa thinks it quite the delightful scene, and is debating Summoning a camera.

Severus barely resists the urge to bang his head against the expensive patio furniture. It's bad enough that Narcissa has a new outfit waiting for Aveline every day. Now she wants to take up a new activity Andromeda wrote to her about called _scrap-booking._

For the love of Merlin.

"Thank you, young Master Draco." Severus doesn't bother to raise his voice, but he drawls out the title in a most obnoxious manner and waves the rose through the air. He watches with mild affection as Draco turns red from his stance over Aveline and giggles loudly.

He swears the girl _rolls her eyes_ at him.

He blinks once, and immediately delves into her mind. There it is, the sarcastic amusement clear as day in her head. What in the world-

"Hello, darling." A snapping pop alerts Narcissa and Severus to Lucius's arrival. He's been working closely with the Ministry, securing ties after his very public trial. He bends and kisses Narcissa's cheek, and Severus turns away.

"Severus," Lucius greets jovially.

"Lucius," Severus nods. "What has you in a positively _delightful_ mood?"

"Why must you always drip disdain, Severus?" Lucius asks with amusement. "And why in Merlin's name are you wearing a black cloak in this heat?"

"That's what I asked him," Narcissa sniffs.

"I was hoping to protect myself from the chill once your wife regained her senses and allowed myself and Aveline _back inside the Manor._ "

Lucius blinks once. "Are you calling my home drafty?"

Severus suppresses a snort. "You expect me to call the Manor drafty, when just a couple of weeks ago it was the stuffiest place in all of the United Kingdom?"

Draco's second birthday party had been held at the Manor. It was the event of the season in child-terms; the society section of the Prophet was still going on about it. The Zabini boy had attended, along with the Crabbe and Goyle boys. Draco had taken an instant liking to Zabini. Aveline eyed the Parkinson girl with something like suspicion and had cried every time Draco left her side. To Severus's immense surprise, Draco's little brow had furrowed in a manner eerily similar to his father's, and he had insisted everyone sit and play near Aveline instead of running wild.

Aveline refused to even look at the Greengrass girl.

The most prominent of adults had been invited- crooked politicians loyal to Lucius, Pureblood supremacists, business owners. Severus had sat in a corner and tried his hardest to look formidable in a silly party hat and with blue icing in his teeth.

Narcissa sits straight up in her lounge chair. "Severus! That reminds me! When is Aveline's birthday?"

Severus thinks for a moment. Then he gives half a shrug. "Tomorrow."

Narcissa shrieks and stands up. Lucius winces. "Tomorrow? _Tomorrow_ , Severus Snape?! Have you lost your _mind_? I thought we still had at least a week to prepare-"

"Narcissa-" Severus tries, and sighs when he is interrupted.

"And that poor little girl, basically an _orphan_ , with only the likes of you to take care of her on a regular basis, won't even have a proper _birthday party._ You know as well as I do that we have to introduce her into society for her to have a secure station in the fu-"

" _Narcissa_!" Severus barks. Lucius jumps, and Narcissa instantly falls quiet. Good. He'd been practicing that tone in the mirror before the start of term this September. He will not have any hooligans disrupting his peaceful dungeons. He will not have it.

"Narcissa," he starts again, softer this time, "no one knows I am the caretaker of Aveline. They do not know who her father is, or the power she likely possesses. I assure you, her… _station_ … in life is quite secure. As for a party, I say absolutely not. It will do no one any good, and it is not as though that girl will care for the memories."

Narcissa had been steadily deflating, her anger abating quite quickly. But Severus knows when Lucius makes a small noise in the back of his throat that he just said something very wrong.

"Not _care_ … not… Severus Tobias _Snape_! She is a little girl. A little _girl_ , Snape. She-I-I don't even- I cannot _fathom_ -" Narcissa's voice promptly reaches a pitch only werewolves can hear. People assume Narcissa Malfoy is a cool, calm, collected woman, and she is. Until children are involved. Then the claws and the spit appear.

In an instant, Narcissa has her wand out. This is not the first time Severus has watched her crack in anger and whip it out, but it is the first time it has been aimed at him. It is something she is notorious for; the way her anger will melt off her face and turn into an icy mask, the way the stinging jinx or hex will be cast out in the blink of an eye.

Severus has the time to sigh a bit. He doesn't fancy a trip to St. Mungo's today. Perhaps Lucius has something in his stores…

The flash and the bite of pain he is expecting never come. Instead, there is something akin to a terrified scream coming from the garden behind Narcissa, and instantly, a ripple of unadulterated magic flows from some strange source. It comes in waves and waves, and Narcissa is thrown ten feet through the air, into a hedge of thorns.

Somehow, clouds form in the sky where there had been none before, and energy crackles all around them.

Draco glances at his mother, then back at Aveline. His gaze rests on Severus for a moment, and then Lucius swears the child _smirks_ a bit.

He watches as Narcissa catches her breath, and Lucius bolts toward her, intent on helping her out of the bush. Lucius carefully detangles the thorns from his wife's sundress. Somehow, none have managed to pierce her skin.

In the next instant, Aveline stands quite calmly and takes several deep breaths. She walks to Severus as though she is twelve instead of two. The lace dress Narcissa bought for her last week swirls around her little kneecaps.

Severus thinks absently that perhaps he should schedule her a haircut. Her deep brown locks have grown into long straight pieces that she keeps pushing out of her eyes.

Aveline totters all the way to his feet, and then she wraps both skinny arms around his leg. " _My_ Sev-rust. _Mine_. _Good_ Sev-rust. _No ouchie_." Her announcement is loud and met with astonishment by all except Draco.

Draco stares at her a moment, and then smiles crookedly. He holds out a pink peony for her inspection. She narrows her eyes, then nods. He places it in the growing pile on their blanket.

Severus cannot resist looking into her mind. What he finds astounds him. All throughout her mind are images of him; him holding her, him tucking her blanket around her at night, him sitting and staring broodingly out the window of their flat while it rains, him chuckling at something Narcissa had said.

There is blind trust there. Recognition. Pride. Protectiveness. More than that, there is infinite amounts of love.

 _LOVE._

The creature that until now Severus has assumed to be nothing but a killing machine hell-bent on the destruction of the entire Wizarding World, biding its time until it is fully grown, is in fact human. Can in fact feel the emotion that crippled her father.

And she feels it for him.

Severus instantly drops to his knees. She is still staring up at him, her eyes glittering. And underneath her skin, faint black marks swirl. He watches with wide eyes as they slither under and around her eyes, her cheekbones. One begins on the pulse point of her throat, and spans downwards, over her shoulders and collarbones, the tops of her tiny arms, the insides of her wrists, her legs. They look just like Muggle tattoos, except they move and react to her moving.

"Severus?" Narcissa has scooped up Draco and is holding him tightly against her chest. Lucius stands in front of them. For the first time, they seem wary of Aveline. Of what she is.

But now Severus knows. There is not only a chance to save the Light. There is a chance to save _Aveline_.

No one has trusted him this purely since his childhood with Lily. He will not betray the girl. Not now.

"It is alright, Narcissa," Severus says slowly, and scoops Aveline into his arms. She is pliant against him, and rests her head against his shoulder.

"Cissie ouchie?" Aveline asks with some concern. The sun is starting to peak through the random cover of clouds.

Narcissa smiles hesitantly. "No, I'm alright."

Aveline regards her, and Severus keeps a careful watch on her mind. This time, images of Narcissa flit through her head; Narcissa patting her shoulder, Narcissa smothering not only Draco in kisses, but Aveline too; Narcissa putting dress after dress over Aveline's head, pretty dresses that Aveline adores, and styling her long hair for hours on end. Narcissa charming the toys to move. Narcissa sitting Aveline and Draco down for lunch.

Intense affection accompanies these images. But there is no remorse for what Aveline did to the woman mere minutes ago. There is only an intense satisfaction that the power that had been sleeping in her soul has finally awakened. The marks on her do not appear to surprise her at all, though she does find them interesting.

"I will not lie and say that she is sorry for what she has done, or that she feels it was…undeserved," Severus smirks at the Malfoys. Draco is squirming, his eyes on the black marks. "But she didn't mean you any harm, Narcissa."

Lucius raises his eyebrows. "You mean to say the girl had enough control over a bout of _accidental magic_ to make sure the thorns didn't harm my wife?"

Severus shakes his head. "No. I mean that the magic was not harmful in its intent. The magic itself protected Narcissa from the thorns."

Narcissa gasps and allows Draco to wiggle from her grasp. She covers her mouth in a dainty way, her bright blonde hair a tangled heap. "You mean she isn't…?"

"She feels _love_ , Narcissa."

Severus knows Lucius will not understand the significance of this. But Narcissa has always been Severus's partner in crime. Her eyebrows raise to her hairline, and then her coolness is back.

"Well then. It is incredibly early, isn't it, Lucius dear, for our little Aveline to be exhibiting signs of magic? And such a strong cast!"

Lucius frowns in confusion, then seems to shake it off. "It's ludicrously early, my dear. Almost unnaturally. But it isn't entirely unheard of. And considering the child's lineage-"

"Yes of course." Narcissa smiles tightly.

Draco tugs on Severus's pant leg, and he places Aveline down beside him. She stands tall and strong, even while Draco wobbles.

At least his charge is competent.

Draco trails his small fingers across one of the marks on Aveline's face. The girl doesn't flinch or try to remove his hand. She almost seems to lean into his touch.

"Oo pretty." Draco says, and grins. He has trouble saying the word _you_ , but he's getting there.

Severus rolls his eyes, and Lucius smirks. "That's right, my little ladies' man."

Narcissa clears her throat. "My son is nothing less than a _gentleman_ , Lucius Malfoy."

"Right, dear."

They watch as the clouds above them dissipate into nothingness. The sun shines with glaring heat once more, and the marks on Aveline's skin fade mysteriously away.

Severus can't help but notice the one on her right thigh takes the form of a snake.

* * *

Aveline has several more instances of accidental magic. Whenever she is upset, or angry, or in pain, the marks appear and her magical ability makes itself known.

It is not until both she and Draco turn three that Severus begins to notice the odder talents she possesses.

He walks into the dining room of the Manor on Christmas Eve, exhausted from his long day of dodging Dumbledore's invitations for a late-night mead in his office and assisting Narcissa with last minute gift shopping. Aveline is supposed to be already fast asleep in her bed, but instead he finds her sitting with her back to him. She is so still he wonders for a split second if she is still breathing.

He instantly goes to dive into her mind, and finds it blocked. He has known grown wizards who have made Occlumency their life's work that could not form blocks that strong. He panics, and darts to the other side of the long table.

In front of her is a small candle. Her long eyelashes are cast downward, and her shoulders hunch under the strain of the effort. She clutches the candle with both hands, and takes long, shallow breaths. Hot wax drips down her fingers and oozes down her palms. The girl doesn't even flinch.

"Aveline?" Severus says quietly.

She doesn't as much as blink.

" _Aveline_." Severus tries again.

Her response is to take a slightly deeper breath. In turn, the fire on the wick of the candle burns an inch higher.

Severus makes an uncharacteristic noise in the back of his throat. Aveline is practicing magic; old, _Elemental_ magic. None but the ancient Druids could do magic like this.

Now _this_ Severus wouldn't mind having a camera for.

"Aveline," Severus says very quietly. He places one hand in the middle of her back. At the contact, she startles and releases the candle. The dried wax tears itself in half as it drops to the ground, the flame instantly extinguished.

Her wide eyes look up at him, shimmering gold in the dim light. It takes her a moment to recognize her surroundings, and then she frowns at him. "That was rude."

He snorts and picks her up. "What was rude was getting out of your bed after Narcissa put you into it. Father Christmas probably walked right through this dining room and saw you."

"If he did, I didn't see him," Aveline shrugs carelessly. She nestles into the crook of his neck, her eyelids fluttering closed.

She is asleep by the time Severus wipes her fingers clean of the wax and tucks her back between the sheets.

The next morning, Draco's favorite present is the small broomstick Lucius bought without Narcissa's knowledge. ("Three is a _perfectly acceptable_ age to begin flying, Narcissa! He could have been riding a broom before he walked if _you'd_ have _allowed_ it.") Aveline's is a stuffed unicorn that prances around her in circles when she smiles.

Severus's is the cup of coffee mixed with firewhiskey that Lucius hands him. Why children wake at such an ungodly hour on Christmas Day he will never understand.

* * *

Severus is trying to decide between witch hazel and gillyweed when Aveline bumps into the man further down the aisle.

He decided to try this new apothecary today; Narcissa recommended it, and so far he has been very pleased. Everything is organized, well labeled, and fairly priced. The aisles are wide, there isn't too much light, and the store itself is large.

Narcissa left a six-year-old Draco with him for the hour so that she could run some errands. He doesn't mind; Draco is a Malfoy, and therefore an exceptionally well-behaved child. Even when they are together, he and Aveline are both golden.

Aveline accidentally knocks against the man on the opposite side of the store, and the contents of his basket go spilling across the hardwood floor. One of the glass vials breaks, and Severus hears Aveline gasp.

"I didn't mean to! I'm sorry, sir!" Aveline's apology is barely a squeak. She is usually extraordinarily graceful and purposeful in her movements.

"Sorry?" The man barks the word at her, and Severus watches with growing trepidation as Aveline flinches. "You're sorry? Where is your mother, girl?"

Severus slowly sets his gillyweed back on the shelf. He doesn't want to alert the man to his presence, and so he takes his wand out of his pocket just as slowly.

Aveline opens her mouth, then closes it. Her tiny legs tremble. She is not used to being accused. She has never done anything wrong.

The man- Severus, for all his efforts, still cannot recognize the brute- snatches Aveline's arm in his meaty hand. "I _asked you something_!"

Before Severus can cast any sort of spell, all of the potion ingredients on the shelves begin to shake. The shop owner looks up from his copy of the Prophet behind the counter, eyebrows raised. The ingredients keep shaking, and then one by one all of the vials begin to shatter with small _pops_.

Aveline smiles calmly, and that is what causes Severus to realize that she is not the one doing this. Aveline always frowns in irate concentration when she performs accidental magic.

He glances over, and Draco's entire body is shaking. His face has gone blank, but menacingly so. He is almost sneering. The expression would be disconcerting on an adult, but on a child it is entirely so.

Draco grits his words through his teeth. "Let. Her. _Go_!"

And then all of the ingredients launch themselves at the man's head. The blithering swine shrieks, and tries desperately to cover his head. He drops to his knees as the ingredients assault him.

The shop owner studies the scene for a moment, shrugs at Severus, and goes back to his paper. No wonder Narcissa is so fond of him.

Severus knows that allowing Draco to continue the assault for much longer will tire the boy, but it is ever so amusing.

After a moment, he tilts the corners of his mouth upwards. "That is quite enough, Draco."

Instantly, the barrage of ingredients stops. The assaulted man peeks up at the children peering down at him. Draco very maturely sticks his tongue out at the man, and takes Aveline firmly by the hand.

The children walk calmly to where he is standing. They share an unfathomable look for an instant, and then Draco looks resolutely at Severus. "We want ice cream."

Severus smirks. "Of course you do. One moment, if you please."

He approaches the man, who is picking himself up off the floor and dusting the dirt off of his pants. The man tries desperately to appear unfazed and irritated, and fails miserably.

Severus considers threatening death, but while the shop owner is decidedly level-headed, he assumes the death threat would be less than tolerated. He himself holds sway only in the lowliest of society, and the highest. Here in middle-class Diagon Alley, he is virtually powerless.

Finally, Severus decides what to say. He looks the man directly in the eyes, and coolly murmurs, "I do hope you realize that you just managed to incur the wrath of the young Malfoy heir."

Severus does not bother to wait around and see the man's reaction. Instead, he sweeps his cloak behind him, and gathers both children close to his sides.

Narcissa is most distraught when she meets them at the ice cream parlor and discovers she _missed_ Draco's first bout of accidental magic. She grabs Severus by the collar and demands he show her in the household Pensieve later.

* * *

Narcissa is making a pitcher of lemonade one afternoon for the children. She'd intended to squeeze the lemons herself, but eventually realized she hadn't the slightest clue what she was doing; the house elves were more than helpful in that respect.

Severus snorts at her indignant huff when she spills yet another glob of water. Her hand trembles on the pitcher. She's never had to hold one steady in all of her life.

"Perhaps the elves should pour glasses for the children, Narcissa?" He suggests shrewdly.

She scowls at him in a most unladylike fashion, and he smirks.

He's just glanced back down at his copy of the Prophet when he hears a gasp and he looks up just in time to see the pitcher of watery lemonade go flying out of Narcissa's hand. It crashes to the ground in a fantastic display of shattered glass, and Narcissa yelps and instinctively pulls Draco back from the mess.

Narcissa begins to reach for Aveline, and then realizes the girl won't budge.

"Aveline, darling, step back a moment! You don't want to be cut, do you?"

Aveline doesn't respond to Narcissa. Her hands are thrust out in front of her, as though to catch the fallen pitcher.

Severus watches her take a shallow breath, so still. He glances at the glass on the floor. There is only glass.

Hovering there in the air, over the mess on the floor, is a shaky glob of lemonade. He is the first to realize that while the pitcher fell, the liquid did not.

At seven years old, Aveline has already spent a year mastering fire. She almost has it conquered. She can ignite almost anything at will. This is not something that particularly surprised him, after he got over the initial shock of her Elemental power. The Dark Lord had always held an affinity for fire magic.

Severus had never thought that her Elemental powers might include the other elements. It is unheard of. No one can possess more than one.

Somehow, she does.

"Narcissa…" Severus says very quietly, and gestures to the floating lemonade. Narcissa's eyes grow comically wide, and she shrieks. He can count on one hand the number of times she's done that.

Draco steps boldly forward and passes his hand straight through the liquid. It comes out sopping wet, and Severus sees Aveline grit her teeth, but the ball of liquid holds its form.

"Wicked, Aveline. Wicked," Draco declares with a grin.

A stunned house elf whisks the broken glass away, and produces another pitcher. With a relieved breath, Aveline releases the lemonade into the new container. Not a drop spills over the sides.

* * *

"Severus," Aveline says quietly one day.

They are at their flat in London. He has returned home for the weekend from Hogwarts, and has decided to give Narcissa a much needed break. Draco is staying on the couch until Monday morning.

Severus looks up from grading papers. In her hands, Aveline holds a copy of a book. It is a book he had hoped she wouldn't get her hands on, but Aveline has a way of getting whatever she wants one way or another. She especially loves books.

He sighs, and motions for her to sit down at the table. It's not a very large one, with only two chairs, and the close proximity to her makes him nervous. She's no longer an infant. Her vocabulary is crisp and expansive. Looking into her hazel eyes is almost enchanting. She truly is a stunning little girl.

A perfectly normal, if exceedingly above average, beautiful girl. He shall have his hands full when she reaches her third or fourth year at Hogwarts.

The thought pains him in strange ways.

"Yes, Aveline?"

She blinks and takes a deep breath. She does this frequently, to steady herself. She glances at Draco, taking an afternoon nap on the balcony. He does this because he likes to pretend he is flying. The afternoon sunlight turns his hair a flaming white-gold. Aveline runs her eyes over his sleeping form, then turns back to Severus.

"This book. This book about what happened to The Boy Who Lived. To Harry."

"Yes?"

"It's true. All of it's true?"

Severus resists the urge to roll his eyes and wince at the same time. No one will ever understand that night. Ever. "A vast majority of it is actually speculation."

Aveline does something that terrifies him in that moment. She reaches across the table and rolls the sleeve of his left arm up to his elbow. Before he can utter a word, she strokes her fingers across his Dark Mark, tracing the harsh black lines. It writhes under her touch, the snake appearing to hiss.

In response, her marks begin to show. She has learned to control them more effectively now, but sometimes they slip. Severus still hasn't deciphered half the runes on her body.

The snake on her thigh hisses in recognition, but makes no sound.

Severus jerks his arm back.

The snakes match. He never realized it before.

Apparently, Aveline has.

"Voldemort is my father."

He cannot lie to her. "Yes."

"The man who did the awful things in all of these books is my father."

"Yes, Aveline."

"He killed the Potters."

Pain lances through him. All he can see is Lily's dead body sprawled on the ground. "Yes."

"He tried to kill Harry, and couldn't. But he isn't dead, is he?"

This time, Severus hesitates. "Well. No. He is not."

Aveline sits very still for a moment. Next to her, the potted plant Hestia had sent home with him last week begins to wilt and bloom in perfect sequence.

Another element, then. Perfect. And only six months into her water training.

"My mother is gone."

"I've never met her. I was told she surrendered you entirely to the Dark Lord."

Aveline's eyes flare in a way that should be unnatural for a seven year old. But so many things are beyond her that she can do without a problem. "She didn't _surrender_ me, Severus. She _abandoned_ me."

Severus says nothing. Who is he to tell her otherwise?

Aveline contemplates her existence for several long moments. Finally, she says, "What I can do isn't normal, is it?"

"Not in the slightest."

"And you know. About that night. About my father. Don't you? You and the Malfoys."

"Yes."

"Does Draco know what my father was? Does he know what you and Lucius are?"

"No." He contemplates asking her not to tell Draco. But he knows she will do what she deems correct.

She stands as though to leave, but she is still. Aveline is always still when she concentrates very hard. "Am I Dark, Severus?"

The afternoon sunlight slants through the balcony doors. The sounds from London filter in and invade the shabby living room and the minimalist kitchen. This conversation is entirely absurd in this setting. Severus senses that whatever he says next could determine the rest of everything. There aren't many moments like that in an average man's life, but he has found an abundance of them in his own.

"You are your choices, Aveline," he says very quietly. He allows his words to sink in.

She bites her tongue. It is the most childish thing he has seen in her in months. Then she brushes her fingers over the cover of the book; over the illustrated image of Harry Potter.

"His hair should be longer and shaggier," she says. Then she walks over to wake Draco; he agreed to help her with her elemental training this afternoon.

Merlin. Severus sincerely hopes she isn't a Seer as well.

* * *

"Lucius," Severus says when the bathtub in the apartment has overflowed for the umpteenth time and all of his neatly stacked papers go flying off the shelves from a conjured wind, "I need a residential building permit from the Ministry."

Lucius smirks. "I'll get you two, old friend."

Narcissa smiles and reaches for her interior design catalogue.

* * *

Lucius Malfoy is beyond stunned when Severus requests to actually look at two properties rather than just one.

"What the devil do you want one way out here for? It's halfway to Ottery Saint Catchpole for Merlin's sake! It's in the middle of absolutely nowhere!"

"Exactly. You really think I'd risk her being seen? She practices all four elements, Lucius, on a large scale! She raised a wave ten feet high when I took her to the coast last week."

"Narcissa will go insane when she discovers you're moving so far from society."

"Narcissa will live. Our Floo will be connected directly to yours. As will our Apparition points."

"Well. At least do me a favor and construct a Quidditch pitch on your grounds, yes? Narcissa won't let me build one at my own bloody Manor, and yet she imports ruddy _peacocks._ "

Severus suppresses his smirk, but only barely.

"What shall the second residence be used for?"

"It shall be considerably… nicer… than my own estate. It is for the Dark Lord, when he returns. And for Aveline."

Lucius's eyebrows shoot up. "I see. And do you plan to rear Aveline in her home, or yours?"

Severus Snape is no stupid man. He knows what Lucius is asking. Years of spying haven't prepared him for this moment. Severus has never had to claim a side before. He has never had one to claim. Always, his side has been the side of the one he loves.

So he nods at Aveline, hugging Draco's waist on a broom far above their heads. They zip through the air, laughing and whooping in a most obnoxious manner. She only laughs that way when with Draco.

"She shall choose."

Severus wonders if Lucius realizes that his son and wife shall go where Aveline goes.

He watches the carefree girl illuminated in the sky by the sun, unaware that entire lives, hierarchies, armies, and futures depend entirely upon her.

* * *

Narcissa is lounging by Severus Snape's recently constructed pool at his recently constructed estate, Beathan, listening to her son laugh as he is splashed by Aveline's elemental water magic, when a copy of the Prophet lands in her lap.

She yelps, and the sound is enough to halt all activity. Snape looks up from a book under a shady landscaping rock. Lucius stands up from his perch in the hot tub on the other side of the pool.

Aveline stares at her expectantly. She notices Draco take a step in front of her and towards his mother, his gray eyes stormy and observant for a newly turned eight year old. He's growing up so fast. He's holding a birthday party at his godfather's new residence tomorrow.

Narcissa looks down at her lap, at the Prophet, and into the even stormier eyes of her dashingly handsome cousin, and wonders if perhaps she should put that party on hold.

"Darling?" Lucius calls regally, ready to take on the world for her.

"It's Sirius." She doesn't speak loudly. She knows everyone can hear. "It's my cousin, Sirius Black. He's broken out of prison and has surfaced in high society London. He's demanding an actual trial."

Severus is by her side in an instant, skimming the article. There seems to be a sneer permanently engrained into his face.

Lucius appears in front of her. Severus stares at both of them for a moment, then glances at the children, standing quietly in the pool.

"That isn't all Black is demanding," he says.

"What else? His inheritance?" Lucius asks with some interest. Lucius always did enjoy a scandal.

"Well yes, that. But something else, also."

This time it is Draco who speaks. "What else does he want?"

"His rightful custody of Harry Potter."

Aveline and Draco share a look entirely missed by the dumbfounded adults. And they grin.

* * *

 **A/N: Thank you for reading! Please leave a review if you're so inclined.**


	3. Chapter 3

_**SIRIUS BLACK ESCAPES PRISON; DEMANDS A TRIAL.**_

 _ **BLACK REFUSES TO SURFACE AGAIN UNTIL TRIAL GRANTED.**_

The headlines all but scream from the front page of the Daily Prophet. Sirius had shown up at the most important party of the season- the Malfoys had missed it because of preparations for Draco's eighth birthday- and jumped up on a table, announcing his escape and his demands, and then promptly summoned a flying motorcycle and crashed through an expensive stained-glass window.

Aveline can't help but admire the man's style.

Someone had managed to catch a picture of him. He really is quite striking, dressed head to toe in daring black, his shirt half unbuttoned and his curly hair a wild halo befitting of some dark and fallen angel from those Muggle myths. Seven years in prison hadn't exactly made a dent in his extraordinary looks, but it is clear he is pale, underfed, and in a horrible state of mind.

Aveline wonders idly where he's hiding. It must be somewhere very well protected, if the Ministry has no leads.

She hears Severus talk a lot of a man named Dumbledore; naturally, the first time she had heard the name, she'd done as much research on his existence as possible. His uses for dragon blood were really quite fascinating.

His uses for his so-called Order of the Phoenix, however, were much less popular. No one could even confirm the group had ever existed.

She bets that's where Sirius is hiding. Somewhere with the Order members.

"Want to play Wizard Chess?" Draco asks hopefully.

She frowns a bit and splays her fingers. The wall of water in front of her splits into five columns, all strong and unwavering. She smiles. "Nah. I'm busy."

Draco sighs. "Thinking about Sirius again?"

"Maybe."

Draco flops dramatically back onto the ground in a most undignified manner. Aveline loves how undignified he is sometimes. She hopes he doesn't grow up to be nearly as dignified as Lucius is.

"Aveline, obsessing over his godfather isn't going to help Harry."

"It might."

"How?"

"It gives him hope. You know it does."

Draco frowns. She knows he doesn't like thinking about the connection. It makes him hope, too, and Draco hates to hope. He's terrified of being let down. He's so very practical sometimes it drives her insane.

"I just don't think we're ever going to get him out of there. If what Snape says about Dumbledore is true-"

"That he's a meddling, conniving old man?"

"Precisely. If that's true, he's going to try everything in his power to keep Harry in that hellhole of a Muggle house."

Aveline bites her lip against a grin. It always secretly thrills her when Draco curses. She never does anything naughty. Being naughty is a Dark thing to do. She's not sure how she should feel about the thrill she gets when Draco does it.

He goes on, "And anyway, say Black gets his trial and _loses_ his case. Then what? Then we've given Harry _false_ hope."

"We're lucky to give Harry anything most days!" Aveline hisses, and lets the water splash back into the pool.

She has never met the boy, and yet she feels as connected to him as she does to Draco. They don't even have true conversations. No words are ever involved, just images. It takes a lot of energy, and a lot of concentration. It's easier for her than for Draco, and some days he's so bitter and forlorn about it, he barely speaks to _her_. Those are the worst days of her life, when Harry misses Draco too and Draco won't talk to her.

Draco is quiet until the wind she creates dies down along with her irritation. Then he says, "You think Snape would take us to the village cinema today?"

Draco adores Muggle movies. He is wary of everything else.

Aveline shrugs and smiles. "Maybe. I'll go ask."

She rips weeds out of the garden on her way to the back door in a last bout of frustration with a flick of her wrist and feels Harry's envy at her ability. His aunt has made him rip weeds out by hand again today.

* * *

 _ **SIRIUS BLACK BEGINS PUBLISHING MINISTRY SECRETS. IMPLIES HIS DEMANDS MUST BE MET BY JULY 1**_ _ **ST**_ _ **.**_

"What the bloody hell was he doing in Azkaban? Running a one-man espionage society?"

Severus chokes a bit on his orange juice, but Aveline has learned to associate the sound of choking with Severus after any mention of Sirius Black.

He really can't stand him, apparently. Aveline finds it all rather amusing.

They're all at the Manor, having quite the grand breakfast feast in celebration of her birthday. Luna Lovegood is present, along with Blaise Zabini and the boy named Goyle. Aveline enjoys the company of Zabini, and Luna is her best friend outside of Draco and Harry. But she truly can't stand Goyle.

"I got you a present, Aveline," Luna says, giant blue eyes wide and warm. Aveline loves Luna. There isn't a Dark bone in her body, but Narcissa says the Lovegoods were neutral in the war.

At least Aveline isn't defying her spectral father's wishes; Luna's blood is Pure.

"Really? Luna you didn't have to-"

"Oh but I did! Daddy taught me about a new creature yesterday; they're called Nargles. I think this will help keep them away. Daddy charmed them to never wilt." And out from underneath her bright green robes, Luna produces a crown made of wildflowers.

It matches the one she wears on top of her own golden head.

Aveline's eyes fill with inexplicable tears. She doesn't bother to hide them, and Severus watches her curiously as she takes the flower crown and puts it gingerly on top of her head. It's a perfect fit, and the brightly colored petals feel like silk against her forehead.

"It must be working already. One of the reactions to Nargles is over-productive tear glands."

Aveline doesn't think Luna, at age seven, even knows what glands are yet, and somehow the thought makes her cry more.

No one has ever given her anything meant to protect her before.

"Thank you so much, Luna," Aveline whispers. She's only known the girl a few months, but she's already much attached to her.

Suddenly from the other side of the table, Goyle sneers. "You're crying? You're just like every other stupid girl."

"Hey!" Aveline protests, irritation threatening to show her marks.

Several things after that happen at once. Blaise throws cake at Goyle for his remark. Draco, furious at Goyle, begins to shout at him. Goyle, in retaliation, dives over the table and yanks at Aveline's long hair, wrapping thick strands of it around his meaty fist.

"See!" Goyle yells, "Watch, Draco, she'll cry like a stupid little girl when I pull her hair! You should be hanging out with me and Blaise, not this stupid girl all the time!"

Aveline is beyond bewildered. Draco talked about Goyle sometimes, and so she had said he could invite him to her birthday breakfast. Goyle had been at Draco's birthday parties every year, and while he was nothing to look at, he was always decently behaved.

If every child their age is on Goyle's maturity level, she is very thankful to Severus for keeping her away from everyone but Draco, and more recently, Luna.

Goyle tugs on her hair hard enough to yank her to the ground, and he falls with her, taking plates full of food with him. She lands hard; he jerks his arm out to catch his own fall, yanking her hair out in giant clumps. She cries out, unable to fight the tears.

She's felt pain before, but never has it been inflicted upon her by someone else. It's an entirely new, frightening, and _infuriating_ concept.

She can feel Harry's anger, fear, and helplessness on the other end of their link, and she _reaches_ with her emotions for him. She feels Draco reach for her in the same way she reached for Harry, even though he's in the room with her. Suddenly, they're connected better than they've ever been before.

Aveline watches as Harry's anger is added to Draco's. Draco's eyes are so dark with fury, they look as though they could cut a diamond, and instantly he disentangles her hair from Goyle's fist. He does so with a gentleness she's never seen before, and simultaneously feels Harry's relief when Draco places her hand in Blaise's.

Blaise helps her to her feet, and instantly Draco is on Goyle. He begins to hit him anywhere he can reach- the face, the stomach, the legs- and his anger reaches the point that accidental sparks fizzle out of his fingers to sting Goyle.

" _You. Will. Never. Touch. Her. Again."_ Draco growls.

"Draco, stop it this instant!" Narcissa screeches. She is ignored entirely.

Lucius merely watches with one perfectly arched eyebrow, and meets Aveline's eyes. She knows he is gauging her reaction, and she sniffs imperiously. Let the stupid Goyle boy learn a lesson from her Draco. Let him hurt. He hurt her, after all.

She doesn't even care if it's a Dark thing to allow.

It is only when Draco begins to sob and his breath heaves uncontrollably that Severus steps in.

"Draco, enough," Severus says. He stands, his black clothes billowing out behind him. He looks almost as intimidating as Draco. But only almost.

When Draco refuses, sparks still flying, Severus sighs in a long-suffering fashion and casts a Shield Charm.

"I said, _enough_."

Aveline watches in alarm as Draco howls in rage. He doesn't even look like a little boy anymore. He looks like the dragon he's named after. "NO. NO."

"Draco…" Narcissa trails off, at a loss. Goyle's nose is bleeding all over the dining room floor.

The bright red is such an intriguing color. Aveline stares at it, stunned. She's never seen so much blood in one place before. The thought of all of that red liquid inside of her, inside of Draco, inside of everyone, just waiting to be spilled someday makes her stomach lurch, and her breathing grows shallow. That shade of red isn't natural, and it calls forth a terror in her unlike anything she's felt before.

Her father spilled so much blood. Blood that Draco has now spilled for her.

"Draco, stop!" she cries, so horrified at herself and him and the whole world that she can't really comprehend anything at all.

He launches himself away from Severus's shield and straight to her. He is several inches taller than her after his latest growth spurt, and she folds perfectly into his embrace. Her forehead rests against the hollow where his collar bones meet, a safe place meant for her.

"Are you okay?" he asks, his voice much steadier.

"I'm fine. It's okay, Draco."

"I thought he was really going to hurt you. I couldn't stand it, Aveline, I just couldn't."

"I know. I would have gone just as crazy, I think."

"…Did you feel how scared Harry was?" Draco's voice is barely a whisper, but here in the comfort of his arms, it sounds infinitely vast and comforting.

"Of course."

Actually, she can still feel Harry, pulsing deep inside her. There are three cords wrapped around each other inside her chest; one is her, one is Draco, and one is Harry. They all bleed into each other.

She knows there are three cords in each of her boys as well.

Goyle begins to blubber, something about how Draco is going to pay for what he's done. Draco snarls like a wild animal, and goes to spring on the other boy again, but Severus's shield holds true. Draco bounces back several feet from the force of it, but the shield doesn't stop him from trying.

" _IF YOU EVER COME NEAR HER AGAIN I WILL RIP OUT YOUR EYES._ "

Aveline thinks that's a bit dramatic, but she can't help but be pleased at Draco's devotion.

Narcissa sighs and scoops a bit of cake with blue icing on it onto her fork and into her mouth. Then she Summons a brandy and blinks demurely at Lucius. "For the next hour, he's your son."

* * *

 _ **SIRIUS BLACK GRANTED TRIAL BY MINISTRY ON THE CONDITION OF TURNING HIMSELF IN.**_

Aveline had snuck out of her bed, and was now sipping water out of thin air. It was a trick she'd learned ages ago; it keeps Severus from having to continuously wash glasses. He hates washing glasses.

Aveline scans the Prophet article left on the table from earlier, then glances around her kitchen at Beathan.

Beathan, she thinks, must be the most beautiful home on the planet, and Severus had built it all for her.

The house is shaped like a square, with a courtyard in the middle. There are herb gardens there for the kitchens and for Severus's potion lab, and a giant fire pit in the middle so that she can practice her fire element. Sometimes she can convince Severus to allow Luna and Draco over for bonfires, but she isn't allowed to use elemental magic around Luna.

Hogwarts is going to be a very difficult place if she has to hide everything from everyone.

The windows in the house are large, and let lots of light in. It has the appearance of a quite large, yet humble, country home. The gardens in the back that surround the pool are hers to do with as she pleases.

She trails her fingers over the wood counters, the stone entranceway of the kitchen. Narcissa had done a fabulous job of decorating the inside of their house; the wood on the walls and floors was warm, the color schemes were light, plants were hanging from rafters and standing tall in corners, stone reinforced the larger rooms. Rustic chandeliers hung in the foyer and lounge rooms.

Draco had helped her string up enchanted Muggle lights around her bed. Luna had given her an old sofa from her attic, and a truly horrid vintage chair for her desk; the chair had a pattern of light green Snitches against a creamy background. Severus hated it, and so of course Aveline had loved it. Photographs, Muggle and Wizard alike, hung in crude frames she fashioned from Elemental wood magic herself on her walls. Luna had suggested peeling wallpaper, to keep some sort of creature- a brownie? - out of the walls, and Aveline had been so amused she'd agreed. Various plants and potion ingredients were stacked on shelves, and stacks of books littered the floor.

All in all, her existence was nothing like a young Pureblood Dark witch should consist of.

Luna had brought over candles for the table beside the pool out back. Lucius had installed multi-colored lights in the hot tub. Narcissa had made sure their furniture stayed up to date with the latest Transfigurations. Severus kept the house shady and cool. Draco persuaded Severus to add luxury items to the bathrooms, like a giant claw foot tub.

Every part of her life is continuously touched by people who love her.

She hopes it will continue that way even if she turns Dark. On nights like this, she doesn't feel as though she has much of a choice.

* * *

 _ **SIRIUS BLACK TRIAL SCHEDULED FOR FIFTEENTH OF JULY.**_

* * *

 _ **ALBUS DUMBLEDORE MEDDLING IN SIRIUS BLACK TRIAL!**_

* * *

 _ **MALFOYS TO VISIT RELATIVE SIRIUS BLACK IN AZKABAN PRISON!**_

Aveline tries on six different dresses.

"I liked the green one."

"I am _not_ wearing green to meet a Gryffindor. What am I, stupid?"

"Why are you so keyed up about this, anyway?"

"Oh, Merlin, I don't know Draco! Maybe because I've been all but hidden away from all of society my entire existence. I can count on both hands the amount of times I've been to Diagon Alley, I've never held an actual conversation with anyone other than you, Luna Lovegood, or Blaise Zabini, and as many times as I've watched Narcissa do it, I still can't braid my own hair, and my picture is going to be plastered everywhere by the end of the day! Not to mention Albus Dumbledore will learn about me, and-"

Aveline is about to say _and will probably realize immediately that I am the Dark Lord's daughter_ but stops herself. That is the only thing on this earth that Draco doesn't know about her.

Eight years of life with him, and he still doesn't know who her real father is. He's never even asked about her relation to Severus.

Behind the curtain in her room, she allows herself a tiny sob.

Today is the day her entire life changes, and she is not happy about it at all.

Of course, Harry feels her sorrow through their bond. He sends comforting vibes through their link, and she brushes her silent tears away. There are far more important things to worry about than sentimentality for a life that was never really hers.

She is the Dark Lord's daughter. It's high time she start acting like it.

She pastes on a smile and pulls the curtain back for a sixth time. "I think I should wear this one."

"It's _black_ ," Draco wrinkles his aristocratic nose. "We're already going to a bloody prison!"

It's a fair point really, but Aveline is all out of dresses appropriate for the occasion. "Well! What else am I-"

She cuts herself off when there's a knock on her doorframe. Her eyes dart over to meet Narcissa's, and in her arms, bless her, is a brand new package from Madame Malkins. Aveline has never been more grateful to have a new dress in all her life.

"Oh thank Merlin, Narcissa!" she exclaims, and Narcissa smiles.

"I thought you could use something new for today. Draco, darling, your father is in the kitchen."

Draco grumbles, but accepts his dismissal and starts off down the hallway. Narcissa shuts the door behind him and crosses the room to brush Aveline's hair out of her eyes.

"Nervous, darling?"

"No. Well. Yes."

"Don't be. Your cover story is in place, and you know Lucius, Severus, and I will do anything in our power to protect you." Narcissa bends down so that she is eye-level with Aveline. Her bright eyes glint with resolve and a cold haughtiness Aveline has never seen before. This, then, is the Narcissa the world sees. "And believe me, Aveline. Between the three of us, we have immense amounts of power."

Aveline takes in Narcissa's blonde hair, curled and coiled at the top of her head with precision, her long eyelashes, and her ostentatiously expensive gray dress. She is the closest thing to a mother Aveline has ever known.

"Can I see the dress, Narcissa?"

"Of course," Narcissa nods, and unzips the dress bag with a flourish of her wand.

"It's perfect," Aveline breathes. The cloth is silver silk, the design is very simple. There are no accents on this dress other than a wide black sash around the waist.

It slides over her skin like water. When Aveline looks in the mirror after Narcissa braids her hair into an intricate circle atop her head, she barely recognizes herself. She is every bit as aristocratic and beautiful as Draco, but she'd never realized it.

She doesn't cry. This Aveline has no use for such displays. This Aveline matches the Narcissa she had only met today; cold, arrogant, and proud.

She smirks at Narcissa in the mirror. "Thank you, Narcissa. I look lovely."

Narcissa is ice as she moves, her pale pink lips seemingly made of frost when she presses them against Aveline's ear. "Let's introduce you to everyone, Aveline. Let's go visit Sirius Black."

Aveline has never heard such delicious words in her life. Suddenly, the warm, beautiful house she loves doesn't seem nearly as fitting as the waiting cameras and granite Ministry floors.

* * *

 _ **HOGWARTS INSTRUCTOR SEVERUS SNAPE AND NIECE ACCOMPANY MALFOYS TO VISIT SIRIUS BLACK IN PRISON.**_

Severus Snape is not her uncle.

Severus Snape is nothing to her.

Draco senses the cold thing taking over her insides and frowns the whole way to Azkaban. Harry senses it from far away, and their combined worry is nothing but irritating.

The cold feeling grows and grows, misting around her heart and spreading towards her collar bones and the bottom of her ribs all through the Ministry. When they reach the Floo station that will take them to Azkaban, Aveline tells Severus she wishes to go on her own. Throwing the powder on the floor and watching it ignite fills her with a feeling a lot like triumph. She is a conqueror. The cameras love her. No one can figure out who she is. At eight years old, the entire Wizarding World has its eyes turned to her.

Who is this girl, and what is her connection to Severus Snape? To the notorious Death Eater Malfoys? To the possible murderer Sirius Black?

Aveline smiles as the green flames spirit her away. They'd never guess, not in a million years, who she _really_ is.

She is notorious. She is anonymous.

Azkaban is dark, and dank, and eerily how she pictured the place Muggles refer to as Hell. The dementors skirt the edges of the Patronus spell their guide casts. They are the most terrifying thing she's ever seen in her life, and the cold inside of her shrinks a little to make way for fear. She shifts closer to Draco, and he doesn't protest when she reaches for his hand. His fingers are warm. She always expects them to be cool.

"Why are we going this way?" Lucius barks when the guide leads them down the darkest, dirtiest hall yet. There are cells on either side, ones with thick bars and wards all around them. The dementors suck their fill from the prisoners inside.

Aveline no longer feels important. She doesn't even feel like a human in this place. Poor Sirius. She can't imagine spending seven minutes here, besides seven years.

"I apologize, sir. Mr. Black's holding cell is on the hall off from this one."

Severus places reassuring hands on both Draco and Aveline's backs. But he can do nothing to mask the shrieks from the deranged woman in the cell they pass.

" _IS THAT HER?! IS THAT THE LITTLE BITCH THAT BELONGS TO HIM? IS THAT THE GIRL? SEVERUS SNAPE IS THAT THE GIRL? CISSA? ANSWER ME. TELL ME IF THAT IS HER. TELL ME. TELL ME!"_

Aveline knows, deep within her, that this woman knows who she is. Her darkest secret is not safe here in the Darkest corner of the world.

She doesn't belong here.

"Who was that?" Aveline whispers when they've passed.

"Your father's most loyal servant, and Narcissa's sister, Bellatrix Lestrange," Severus whispers.

Aveline is quiet. Why would her father's most loyal servant call her that foul name? How could Narcissa possibly be related to that crazy woman? She hadn't gotten a good look through the bars, but Aveline knows the dark and bloodshot eyes will haunt her dreams night after night.

"We're here," the guard says after eons of walking through Azkaban. His keys jingle, and Aveline notices that this hall is much nicer than the others, with adequate lighting, clean floors, and a lack of dementors.

One of the doors opens inward, and Sirius Black is revealed. The room is sparse, with a fold-out bed against one wall, a table and chair, and nothing else. But it is an infinity better than any of those cells had been.

Sirius himself has a rubber ball that he tosses against the wall and then catches. Aveline wonders how long he's been doing that.

He looks good. Very good. Well-fed, in his own clothes. When he smiles at them, it is sardonically, but with mischievousness.

"Ah! Malfoy family, and Snivellus. To what do I owe the immense displeasure?"

It takes Aveline a moment to realize that Severus is the one called Snivellus. She isn't sure if she should be offended or not on his behalf.

"Sirius. I see you're in good health," Narcissa says. This new voice matches her new eyes. Draco doesn't seem affected. He looks around in a nonchalant way, his hands shoved into his black pants.

"Yes actually. My lovely friends were kind enough to drop off necessities after I turned myself in. More than you've done, cousin."

"I'm doing more than I should just by being here."

"Ah, yes. Your blood traitor cousin is too scummy to associate with, even after our entire family is dead."

"You can really speak so flippantly of-"

"But of course! What do I owe the bastard Blacks, hm?"

Narcissa's lips are thin. Finally she says, "May I introduce my son, Draco."

Draco perks up then, stepping between his mother and father. His back is straight, and Aveline notices with some indignation that he's shot up another inch. He smirks. "Hello, Sirius Black."

Sirius sneers down his nose at Draco. "Hello, young Malfoy heir. Tell me, how many Muggles have you cursed so far?"

"Sirius!" Narcissa admonishes.

Draco seems confused. "Why would I curse the Muggles in the cinema? They're the ones that know how to make the film play."

Sirius's eyebrows shoot up to his curly hairline. "Excuse me?"

"I have been trying to… Instill some culture into my godson," Severus intervenes. Every word of his drips disdain.

"I see," Sirius nods. He seems far more impressed than he'd care to be. Then he glances for the first time at Aveline. "And who might this be?"

"This is my niece, Aveline Enigme. I raise the girl."

"Poor thing," Sirius snorts. His eyes are like coals. They lodge somewhere in Aveline's chest and smolder. "Snivellus is going to ruin you, love."

"I sincerely doubt that," Aveline snorts. "He's very good to me. It's fantastic to finally meet you, Mr. Black."

Sirius seems taken aback and highly amused at the hand Aveline offers him. He takes it anyway and bends at the waist to kiss it.

Severus makes that strange choking sound again.

"Enchanted, to be sure, Miss Enigme." Sirius straightens and looks back at Narcissa. "So, cousin. Why are you here?"

Narcissa takes a deep breath and looks at her husband. Lucius nods and places a hand on Draco's back.

"We wanted to offer to reinstate you to the Black family."

Whatever he was expecting Narcissa to say, it clearly wasn't that. Aveline watches as he turns deathly pale, then green, then pale again. "Are you serious?"

"No," Draco cackles, " _you_ are!" Aveline giggles, and soon the two are howling with laughter. They stop abruptly when a dementor hungrily bangs against the cell door.

Sirius grins. "Regular riot, those two."

"My offer is entirely legitimate, Sirius. The paperwork has already been drawn up at Gringotts. You would have full access to the House of Black funds, full access to our legal protection, and full command of our properties. Everything."

Sirius frowns and sinks down into his one chair. He crosses his legs and leans back with his hands behind his head. "Why would you offer me this? I _didn't_ kill Pettigrew. I'm not nearly as Dark as you'd like me to be. Also, if you think you're getting _anywhere_ near my godson- "

"This isn't about Harry, sir. Nor is it about you being Dark."

Sirius blinks curiously at Aveline. She knows she is a strange child, but she wishes his eyes wouldn't see right through her. "No? Then what is it about, love?"

"Me."

This catches the man's attention. "You?"

"In return for being reinstated, we would like to request that Aveline be put under the full protections of the House of Black. Naturally, Draco will be able to extend these rights to her in full once he turns seventeen. However, we think it _prudent_ that it happen as soon as possible." Severus snarls the words. Aveline can understand why some of his students are terrified of him.

"And what's so goddamn important about your niece, Severus?"

"The idea wasn't his. It was Dumbledore's. If you agree to this, Dumbledore will not only step aside in his crusade _against_ you gaining custody of Harry Potter, but in fact will _help_ you with gaining custody," Narcissa says. She doesn't even try to sound persuasive. Aveline wonders how she can be so cold for so long and not freeze to death. "You know as well as I do that his testimony could make or break your case, Sirius. He _is_ already slotted as your representative at trial."

Aveline refrains from mentioning that Severus hadn't even told Dumbledore about her. He'd simply said that he needed Dumbledore to make the offer to help Sirius because of Voldemort business.

Her father must have been a very powerful wizard, to have a man such as Dumbledore bending convictions at just the mention of his name. Why is Dumbledore so keen on keeping Harry at that horrid Muggle home anyway?

Sirius frowns. The room is full of tense silence for several long minutes. "You understand, Narcissa, Snivellus… that if I agree to this, our families will be henceforth allied. For good."

Narcissa glances at Severus. Severus stares broodingly at Narcissa. Finally, Narcissa nods. "We understand."

Sirius nods also, slowly. "Alright. Give me a day or so to think it over." He makes an aristocratically graceful and flippant movement towards his door.

"Of course," Narcissa nods. The adults turn, and Draco smirks at Sirius one last time and turns with them.

Aveline lingers a moment. "I'll tell Harry you said hello," she says. She smiles in a slightly teasing manner at him.

Then she walks out of the door with the most notorious man in the Wizarding World calling after her.

* * *

 _ **SIRIUS BLACK REINSTATED AS HEAD OF NOBLE HOUSE OF BLACK; DUMBLEDORE JOINS LEGAL DEFENSE TEAM**_

* * *

Aveline meets Albus Wolfric Percival Brian Dumbledore for the first time when Sirius Black is in the process of adding her to his family wards. Albus Wolfric Percival Brian Dumbledore apparently held enough sway to bail Sirius out of Azkaban until his trial.

She enjoys his beard immensely, but thinks that the pointy, star-patterned hat atop his head is a bit demeaning for a man of his status.

"Hello, Aveline," he smiles. His eyes are very blue and very expressive. They actually seem to twinkle in the low light.

Sirius apologizes profusely and gracefully when he takes an athame out of his robes and slices her hand open.

"Hello, Mister Dumbledore," Aveline says without flinching.

"I'll heal this," Severus murmurs, but she waves him away.

"Leave it. It'll make a cool scar."

"Oh, _honestly,_ " Severus grumbles, but proceeds to bandage her hand the Muggle way.

"I was most surprised to learn of your-"

"Existence?" Aveline cuts Dumbledore off with a wry smile.

"I was going to say I was surprised to learn of your honorary admission into the House of Black, but yes. That too." His beady eyes keep twinkling. It's almost annoying to Aveline.

"I'll be sure to further your knowledge of my existence, then, professor. My name is Aveline Atropos Morgane Enigme. I'm eight years old. And…" Here, Aveline trails off.

She eyes a spare slip of parchment on a desk in the study of Grimmauld Place, and blinks. Instantly, it is set aflame.

Dumbledore doesn't gasp, but she thinks he may have stopped breathing for a moment. "That is quite a talent, Aveline."

Honestly. The man is so transparent. "That's nothing."

She raises the water out of the glass sitting on the arm of Narcissa's chair. Narcissa sniffs and rolls her eyes; she'd been about to take a sip. Aveline concentrates a bit harder and brings the ancient and dry potted plants back to life. A breeze from nowhere wisps through Dumbledore's beard. She had only just recently mastered using all her Elemental powers at once.

"Severus," Dumbledore says without looking away from her. "You have been keeping this delightful child from me for far too long."

"That's just like Snivellus," Sirius calls.

And then the ward addition is completed. Aveline feels a strange sensation, almost like Side-Along Apparition. Magic squeezes against her from all sides, and she gasps in a strangled sort of way. Draco sits up straighter from his throne-like chair across the room, his keen gaze trained on her face. Then the pressure is gone, and all that is left is a heady sort of rush. She waits for the Black magic to settle into her bones.

When she looks up, she looks straight into the eyes of Sirius Black. She wonders if hers are as dark as his now.

"Congratulations, Aveline," he breathes. He is something wild and fatherly and a husband and an animal and a bodyguard and a mentor and a best friend all in one. "You're now forever under my protection."

* * *

 _ **SIRIUS BLACK CLEARED OF ALL CHARGES. CUSTODY HEARING FOR THE BOY-WHO-LIVED SET TO BEGIN TOMORROW.**_

* * *

"Should we tell them? About us and Harry?"

Aveline carefully considers Draco's question, then shakes her head. "No. We shouldn't."

"Why not?"

"We don't want to rock the boat too soon. Not when it comes to Harry. He's too important. You know how much Severus hates Sirius. We can't risk being separated before we've even met."

"Fair enough."

"Soon, though, I think," Aveline says, trying to be hopeful.

Hope isn't something she's very good at anymore. That's now Harry's thing.

* * *

 _ **SIRIUS BLACK GAINS CUSTODY OF HARRY POTTER!**_

* * *

"Harry is coming back into the Wizarding World in two weeks," Severus says. "On his eighth birthday, no less."

Aveline glances at Draco. He nods. She looks back at her guardian. "There's something we need to tell you."

* * *

When Sirius Black walks into Number Four, Privet Drive for the first time, Petunia Dursley is trying very hard to make sure none of her neighbors see him. Vernon Dursley is spluttering about calling the police. Dudley Dursley is in the kitchen, eating his third sandwich for lunch.

Harry Potter, the son of his best friends and his godson, the single most important human being to him on this earth, is sitting quietly on a hideous and expensive couch. Harry Potter, outcast from the Wizarding World and the Boy Who Lived, is grinning.

"Hello, Sirius," the boy says before Sirius himself can say a word. "My name is Harry Potter."

To everyone's great astonishment, Harry comes bounding off the couch to wrap two skinny arms around his godfather.

"It's about ruddy time," Harry says around his tears.

Sirius blinks several times, and then barks a laugh. "My dear boy, you seem to have something to tell me."

* * *

Fortescue's Famous Sundae is melting down Aveline's fingers. She huffs another breath. Next to her, Draco's leg twitches for the tenth time. It's not visible to anyone who might be looking, but it's one of the biggest nervous tics the boy has.

"He's on his way," Narcissa soothes.

Aveline hisses under her breath and freezes the ice cream again.

She has been waiting her whole life to meet the other third of her triad. Now the moment is only ten minutes away and she has grown impatient.

Dumbledore apparently has a way to get Harry back into the Wizarding World while entirely avoiding the media. Severus and Lucius had already constructed wards around the patio of Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor. No one can see them. It's more than a little disconcerting to watch people walk past them and not even glance their way.

"Honestly, you'd think Black would make this endeavor at least time efficient," Severus snipes.

Aveline narrows her eyes at him, and he shrugs evenly.

There's a strange and protective bond between Aveline and Sirius. There really is.

"There they are!"

Aveline snaps her neck around to watch Dumbledore emerge from the Leaky Cauldron, seemingly alone. Whatever he has done has hidden Sirius and Harry incredibly well. She doesn't see them at all.

The media, armed with self-writing quills, thick pads of parchment, and a million cameras all shout at once.

"Where is Harry Potter?"

"What do you know about the Boy Who Lived?"

"Who were the Muggles responsible for his care?"

"Where is Sirius Black?"

"Dumbledore, do you have any word on Harry Potter?"

Suddenly there is a bright flare of unmistakable joy surging through the link. Aveline puts a hand to her chest and grins at Draco. He grins right back. Eagerly, she scans the crowd with him. Still no Harry.

Dumbledore enters Fortescue's and happily walks out onto the patio. The media crowds around the door and wails. Aveline watches a blonde woman that looks like an insect claw at the windows.

"Alright, Sirius, I think you and young Harry can emerge now."

Suddenly, from out of thin air appears Sirius, tall and handsome and wearing impeccable Muggle clothes. And next to him, grinning and beautiful in the sunshine, is Harry.

"Hello Aveline," he says, still grinning. "Hello Draco."

"Blimey," Draco breathes, his eyes wide.

" _Harry_ ," is all Aveline can possibly muster.

The three of them barrel into each other at the same time. The instant they come into contact, arms winding around arms and knees clacking together, heads bowed under the deep blue sky, a shockwave of power is released. It spans outward in a triangle shape, blowing the entire roof of Fortescue's off the building. It peels the paint off of a few buildings further down the Alley. Severus is thrown ten feet backwards through a glass window. Lucius narrowly avoids being hit by a catapulted Severus and instead slams himself into the ground. He gracefully takes Narcissa with him, and the two of them go rolling into the street. Sirius flies up and away, barely able to cast a Cushioning charm before being dropped unceremoniously to the ground.

Dumbledore stands silently through the blast. He raises his wand and repairs the damage to the ice cream parlor's roof as it falls. Then he walks out of the protective wards and into the street, helping Lucius and Narcissa up and proceeding to dust them off.

He puts his wand to his throat in order to address the screaming witches and wizards and the two dozen Aurors that just popped into the street via Apparition, looking wildly around for the threat.

"Attention, everyone, attention. I apologize for that startling display. It seems young Harry Potter, who has just returned to our world, was so overcome with elation that he had a spout of intense accidental magic. All is well."

The second half of his explanation is drowned out by the wave of cheers that go up at the announcement Harry Potter has in fact returned.

When the Malfoys, Severus Snape, and Sirius Black collect themselves enough to return to their respective charges, they find them still connected, heads still bowed, entirely unaffected by the blast at all.

"I have never been so confused in my life," Lucius admits.

Dumbledore smiles. "I may have some books in my study at Hogwarts that could help clear this up. Would anyone care for a lemon drop?"


	4. Chapter 4

Aveline is pretending to be asleep. It is an art she perfected at age six, after Severus taught her how to read. He used to check up on her at night because she stayed up too late with her books.

She would love nothing more than to peruse all the books surrounding her in Dumbledore's office. But for now, she is ecstatic at being able to lie next to Harry. Narcissa had Transfigured a chair into a wide chaise; Harry had been promptly placed between her and Draco to rest. All three of them have their fingers linked on his narrow chest.

Draco and Harry are both legitimately asleep. They would make terrible spies.

"Are you honestly informing me, Dumbledore, that my son, my _heir,_ is inalterably linked by soul to this girl and to _Potter_?!"

Oh, Lucius sounds furious. Aveline barely resists the urge to giggle.

"Yes, Mr. Malfoy, I am afraid that is the case. Feel free to take all three of them to Saint Mungo's. They won't be able to do anything about it. No one can, and I must caution you against exposing them."

"What does this mean for the three of them?" Narcissa's voice isn't anything like her husband's. She could be discussing the weather. By Aveline's count, she's on her fourth lemon drop.

"It could mean several things. We'll simply have to wait and see how their bond progresses over time."

There's stunned silence for a moment, and then Sirius demands, "Well? Aren't you going to tell us what we might be able to expect? I've already several bones to pick with you, Dumbledore-"

Aveline thinks that she understands very easily how Sirius came from a Dark family. The snobbish ice in his tone mirrors Narcissa's perfectly. Sirius could have been dangerous once, murderer or not. He still could be.

She makes note of this and tucks it away in the back of her head, where she has put all her mental notes for a long time.

Dumbledore sighs. "There hasn't been a bond this strong on record since ancient times. The previous bond members showed signs of telepathy between them, deep emotional ties, and also physical ones."

Lucius sounds sick when he speaks next. "Physical bonds?"

Aveline is positive there is something gleeful in Dumbledore's tone. The candlelight in the room flickers across the backs of her eyelids. "Indeed. As a matter of fact, it could come in handy someday. When one is hurt, the others will know. When one feels a more enjoyable sensation, the others will feel it as well."

Narcissa is the first to grasp the implications of this. "Dumbledore! If what you're suggesting is correct then-"

"Yes," Dumbledore agrees and sounds much graver. "If one dies, the others do as well. Most usually. There have been a few fickle exceptions."

Lucius makes that strange choking sound Severus often makes at the mention of Sirius. Aveline listens as he gets up and strides out the doors, slamming the heavy things behind him. Someone silences them before they can make a loud crash.

"I sincerely hope those didn't reach out and smack him on his way out. They have a nasty habit of doing that to anyone that slams them in such a manner." Dumbledore doesn't sound very sincere at all.

"You are telling me, professor," Narcissa snarls in a whisper, "that if Aveline or that boy dies, my Draco will as well?"

"It is almost certain, Narcissa."

For a moment, Aveline thinks Narcissa may get up and walk out with her husband. Instead, she hears Narcissa take several deep breaths. Then, "What can we do to help them?"

Dumbledore seems pleasantly surprised at her question. "In what way?"

"How do we ensure they remain happy? Healthy? _Protected_?"

Everything is quiet for a moment, but it is a different kind of quiet from before. Aveline senses something in the air that is almost like magic, but not quite. She debates for a moment, and decides it's a secret.

"How far are you willing to go, Mrs. Malfoy? To protect Draco?"

"As far as necessary. During the war-"

 _The war. The war. The war_. The words pound through Aveline's head.

"Go on, my dear."

"During the war, Severus confided in me… what he was. To you."

"I see."

"I agreed that I would help him. As much as possible. No one puts much stock in a Death Eater's frivolous wife, you see."

For the first time in her short life, Aveline begins to question the loyalty of the people her father entrusted her to. She isn't sure which side she wants them to be on, and the realization terrifies her more than anything.

"Then it appears I have much to thank you for, Narcissa. Severus rarely informs me of the identities of his… friends. I was beginning to doubt he had any at all." There's a smile in the old man's voice. Aveline wonders if he's ever not smug about something.

"I didn't do it for you. I did it for Draco."

"Naturally. The things mothers do for sons always somehow astonish me. I should be used to it by now."

"Please just tell me what needs to be done. I'll speak with Lucius later."

Dumbledore shuffles something around on his desk. "There are three main factors, I think, to take into consideration."

"Of course there's three," Sirius mutters. Aveline almost jumps. She'd forgotten the man was even in the room.

Dumbledore continues. "The first is friendship. Never underestimate the power of it. Given the opportunity, these three would gladly forget the rest of humanity and associate only with each other. That would be most negligent, I believe, for you all to allow. The bonds they make now will serve them for a lifetime. The bonds they make now will guide them in the future, you see."

"The second factor?" Narcissa asks tightly.

"Keep them all in good health. Make sure they eat fruits, vegetables, proteins, breads. Getting plenty of exercise- both magically and physically- will be crucial for them. The less aches and pains they develop the less the group as a whole suffers. But then, I am sure these are things you are all already doing for the children individually. In that case, I recommend that you cultivate separate interests in the children. Give them hobbies outside of each other, you see."

"And the last? Let me guess; a lobotomy." Sirius growls the words like some sort of injured animal.

"No, Sirius, nothing quite that drastic. However, among being happy and healthy, Narcissa also expressed concern over the children being protected. While everyone in this room is educated enough to understand that wards couldn't possibly be placed around all of them at all times- it would be neither efficient nor mentally healthy for them- I do recommend that you all find some sort of talisman for each of the children. Something that makes them stronger, makes their magic more powerful."

At that moment, there is a strange popping noise. Aveline recognizes the sound as house-elf Apparition.

"Mister Dumbledore sir requested snacks for childrens, sir?" The squeaky voice is loud in the otherwise quiet room. It causes Draco and Harry to stir next to her. Harry's shaggy dark hair tickles her nose.

She loves him. She loves Draco. That is all she knows for sure, and for her that is enough.

"Yes, thank you. Narcissa, Sirius, Severus; I thank you all for your cooperation. These children are all very lucky to have such caring guardians. I think the rest of this conversation is better suited for another time, don't you?"

It is only when Dumbledore says his name that Aveline realizes he didn't say a word throughout the entire conversation.

"Severus, you take Draco and Aveline on, will you? I must track down my moping husband."

Aveline pretends to be woken by the house elf with the boys. They rub their eyes and she brushes her hair out of her face. They eat the sweets and down the warm milk nervously. None of them want to be separated. She can feel their anxiety coursing through the link. She can feel Harry's envy at the two of them going back to the Manor together while he is to leave with only Sirius.

"Everything will be fine," she whispers. "We'll see each other tomorrow."

"I just found you two. I can't be taken away again now!"

"It's fine, mate. I'll take care of Aveline and Aveline will take care of me. Meanwhile, you look a bit starved. No offense, of course. You need to rest and get some actual food in you." Draco's voice is authoritative and soothing, a perfect blend of Lucius and Narcissa.

"I suppose," Harry grumbles.

"Besides," Draco grins. "In all honesty, you're catching a break. Aveline has horrid morning breath."

"I do not!" Aveline shrieks. Her face is flaming crimson. Honestly, the nerve of Draco sometimes!

Harry grins at her. "Brush your teeth before you come see me tomorrow, yeah?"

Aveline is vastly irritated with the both of them. She lunges off the chaise and over to Severus. He watches her with a raised eyebrow. "Severus, please be so kind as to take me back to Beathan tonight. Not the Manor."

"Aw, come on-"

"My mind is made up," she sniffs. At least this solves Harry's jealousy nicely.

Sirius's laughter echoes throughout Dumbledore's Floo the whole way home.

* * *

When Harry finally looks like a human again rather than a poorly dressed skeleton, Dumbledore suggests a press conference. The media has been going insane, trying to get just a glimpse of their beloved Boy Who Lived.

Sirius scoffs at Narcissa's offer to allow Harry to borrow one of Draco's suits, instead opting to have Madam Malkins make Harry one of his own. At least Sirius civilly thanks Narcissa for the offer though.

Progress.

* * *

"I really hope he likes the Quibbler," Luna whispers to Aveline conspiratorially. "Daddy is giving him a free subscription for life to welcome him back to our world."

It's dreadfully hot this August. The windows in Luna's room are all open, and from a distance they can see the Weasley children zooming through the air, playing Quidditch. Aveline has never met any of them, but they seem very interesting. She can see their red hair glinting in the sun from here, across several fields.

"I introduced Harry to the Quibbler weeks ago," Aveline assures Luna. "He thinks it's brilliant!"

Luna lets out a small breath. "Oh, good! Do you think he'll like me at all?"

"I think he'll adore you. I adore you. He should too." Harry would never dislike her best friend outside of himself and Draco. Luna was the only other girl Aveline had ever come in contact with really. Often Aveline wondered if this is what having a sister is like.

Tonight is to be the first night she's ever spent away from Severus and outside of his home. Narcissa had taken Dumbledore's advice to encourage friendships in the children's lives very seriously; Draco is to spend the night with Blaise, and Harry with the son of a couple Sirius once knew by the name of Longbottom.

She's so excited for her first sleepover she's practically quivering there on Luna's floor. She can't wait for night to fall. Xenophilius had already promised them fireworks of epic proportions tonight.

"I think my mum has made some snacks, if you want some," Luna offers.

Aveline nods eagerly. Mairead Lovegood, she likes to think, is everything Narcissa Malfoy would have been if she were not filthy rich. She loves them both.

They trot down the stairs and they both shiver when they pass under the edge of the more high-powered Cooling charms. Mairead stands at the kitchen counter, a spell book on the edge of the windowsill.

"Hello girls," she says without turning around. She has the dreamiest voice Aveline has ever heard. It's almost exactly like Luna's. "I was just brewing some Dreamless Sleep potion. Xeno keeps having these awful night-terrors about strange creatures called Nargles."

* * *

"So what's up with all the secrecy, mate?" Blaise licks his fingers slowly in the dying firelight. Draco had been spending more and more time with him over the past several months. Christmas was just around the corner, and he hadn't even purchased gifts for Harry or Aveline yet, but the gift exchange for he and Blaise had been scheduled for tonight. He feels like a rotten soul partner.

"What do you mean?" Draco asks, adopting the lofty tone his father often used when dealing with Ministry employees. It is really quite effective.

"You know what I mean," Blaise snorts.

"Not quite, actually."

"You're best bloody mates with Harry bloody Potter, and you won't even speak of him."

It's a fair point, really, but Draco would rather die than admit it. "So? I'm best bloody mates with Aveline bloody Enigme, too."

"Yeah but no one has even heard of her before. Did you know that? I've inquired into several social circles, actually, and no one's even heard the name. She's a bit odd, from what I've seen of her. She's too observant, you know? It's like she sees everything. It's right creepy-"

"Shut your mouth, Zabini, or I'll shut it for you!"

"Alright, alright! I'm just saying, mate. You're the Malfoy heir. You need to associate with a better sort."

Draco feels something like anger well up in him, but stronger. Every cell in his body seems to protest what Blaise is saying. Not just his body, but something else too. His stupid linked soul, probably.

"What sort could be better than Harry? Than Aveline, whose bloodline, I remind you, goes farther back than even mine?"

"Well. Not a _better_ sort, then. A more _social_ sort."

"I'm friends with you, for some bizarre reason. That's enough for me."

Blaise is quiet for a moment. His dark eyes dart about the expensively decorated room, courtesy of his most recent stepfather's funds. Then he looks back at Draco. "Look, Draco. I'm not saying these things because I dislike Harry. I've never even met the bloke. Aveline's great too. She's very polite to me every time we meet."

Draco's thin eyebrows shoot up. "Then why are you so concerned, Blaise?"

"There's been talk. About what's going to happen when we all get to Hogwarts in a few years?"

"That's ages away-"

"Yeah, but not really. We'll be nine this summer. You know what Slytherin house is going to be like. Everyone will have made strong alliances before we're even Sorted."

"And you're worried that my alliances won't necessarily be your alliances."

Blaise sighs and rubs his hand over his face. "I'm worried you won't have _any_ alliances, and I know how much you crave power, Draco. You won't be top-dog if you don't make it clear now."

"Like hell!"

"It's true. Pansy is royally pissed. You're supposed to be ringleader, mate."

"Pansy…" Draco says, frowning. He hadn't seen the girl since his birthday party. She was really quite annoying, but she was also vicious.

Draco considers what Blaise is saying. It's entirely true, that friends are gained in Slytherin through cunning, careful consideration, wealth, and future prospects. Most such friendships are often formed before even attending Hogwarts, or on the Express after a brief introduction from respective parents.

Draco used to have a large social circle all set up and waiting for his call. After the Goyle incident, not so much. After Aveline started developing all her Elemental powers, even less. Now, with his preoccupation with Aveline and Sirius and Harry, his social circle consisted of… Blaise. Sometimes Theo Nott.

Slowly, an idea begins to form in Draco's head.

"What if-"

Blaise cuts him off. "Oh, Salazar. I know that look. I really do. Draco, whatever you're planning in that slick blond head of yours is probably vastly immoral, sneaky, underhanded, and bound to be illegal in certain parts of the United Kingdom."

"And?"

Blaise grins. "And I'm sure I'll love it, but I'm not sure how well it will work."

Draco grins back. "Then listen closely, mate."

* * *

"I cannot believe my grandmother is making us do this," Neville groans.

"What?" Harry asks. "Have tea with your great aunt and uncle? Trust me, mate. I know all about horrible aunts and uncles. Yours don't seem nearly so bad."

Neville tugs at his too-tight shirt collar again and gapes at Harry. "Are you mad? Uncle Algie keeps trying to force magic out of me. He dropped me off the end of Blackpool Pier two summers ago and I nearly drowned."

Harry almost concedes his argument, but thinks of the cupboard under the stairs and keeps quiet.

"Anyhow, it's not as though they're _your_ family," Neville continues. "You shouldn't be subjected to them along with me. They're going to be practically worshipping you the entire time, and I know how you hate that."

Neville's face is very red, and suddenly Harry understands. Neville is embarrassed. "Oh, Neville. Everyone does that. As long as you never do, it's fine. You can't control your family."

Neville seems absolutely miserable. He gives up on his collar and sinks down onto his bed. The blanket covering it is gray. The walls are gray. The Longbottom manor is a chill and dank place- not shady like Malfoy Manor, and not menacing either, but rather depressing. Everything is bland, and Augusta enjoys taxidermy rather too much. The fact that it is the middle of March and constantly raining does not help the dreariness.

Still, Augusta is extraordinarily polite, if a bit brutally blunt, and Neville is a very good friend to Harry. He's never ogled or goaded or teased. It is much more than Harry has come to expect. Aveline and Draco are bound to him by soul and he loves them more than anything, but that makes everything much more intense. With Neville, there is quiet.

"I suppose," Neville sighs.

Harry bites his lip. He's not very good at comforting people. "And as for your magic, I'm sure you're very powerful. I don't have many spurts of accidental magic, and when I do they're not very strong."

Neville gives him an incredulous look, and instantly Harry realizes his mistake. Dumbledore had told everyone last year that the giant blast in Diagon Alley was his fault; accidental magic caused by extreme emotion. No one but their family members knew of the soul bond between him, Aveline, and Draco.

"That doesn't count. I was a bit overwhelmed at the time!" Harry rushes to cover his mistake. Thankfully, Neville doesn't question it further, just snorts humorlessly and continues to mope.

"Neville! Harry dear! Come downstairs now please! Our guests are here!" Everything out of Augusta's mouth seems to be ended with an exclamation point. Neville groans once more and tugs at Harry's sleeve.

Neville, for all his moping about his grandmother, has really been rather fortunate; the entire top floor of the Longbottom home is his suite. They tromp down the wide staircase to the fourth floor, and present themselves to the old, decrepit people waiting. Harry has never met Algie or Enid before.

Enid dresses more outrageously than even Augusta, in a giant hat resembling a live daisy and a bright red party dress with a slit up the side meant for women much younger than she. Algie wears what seems to be a normal dark green suit, but Harry looks closer and realizes it is made from moss.

The Wizarding World is quite the bizarre place. Much more so than either Aveline or Draco ever lead him to believe.

"Neville, my boy!" Algie flings out a hand and places it firmly on Neville's shoulder. "Any sign of magic yet, my boy?"

"No, sir." Neville turns as green as Algie's suit as he says this.

"Well, we'll soon fix that! And Harry! Harry Potter! How do you do, my boy?"

"Very fine, thank you."

"Yes, yes, tell that scoundrel godfather of yours that I say hello, won't you, my boy?"

"Of course, sir."

Tea goes something very much along those lines; plenty of "my boy"s and gushing from Neville's aunt Enid. Augusta goes on and on about what a tragedy Neville's parents are, and how he really should try harder to exhibit magic and make them proud.

The word Squib comes up several times.

"What does that mean?" Harry asks. He's had to ask this more than he ever wanted to.

"It means someone that genetically should be very magical and isn't. It means something went wrong and the magic gene failed. They live in and know about our world, but can't participate in it." Neville winces every time the term comes up, and not knowing what else to do, Harry passes him extra bits of cake under the table to comfort him.

At the sixth mention of the word Squib, and after quite a lot of brandy, Algie stands up raucously. "Nonsense. Neville, my boy-"

The man whips out a bizarre looking wand almost longer than his arm and points it at Neville. Neville lets out a squealing sound that resembles a mouse, but has no time to move before Algie fires a spell at him that scoops him up into the air. Neville dangles there upside down.

"Grandma!" Neville cries.

"Oh, hush now Neville, Uncle Algie is just trying to help you," Augusta hushes him, licking cream from a pastry nonchalantly.

Harry watches in fascinated horror as Algie tosses open the nearest window and thrusts Neville outside of it. Neville screams, having no choice but to stare straight down at the ground four stories below.

"Now, let your magic help you out of this one, my boy," Algie snickers.

"I can't-"

"Sure you can, my boy," Algie says reassuringly.

Suddenly, a house elf pops in. "The meringue is done, mistress."

"Oh, Algie, have some of this delightful lemon meringue!" Enid shrieks happily.

"Meringue?! Oh, I love that elf's mer-"

Harry yells wordlessly and lunges out of his chair, his hand outstretched, but it is too late. After losing concentration, Algie's magic has lost its grip on Neville. The whole family watches in horror as he dives towards the ground, screaming his head off.

No one even has time to cast a spell to save Neville. Harry is convinced he is about to watch his best friend go _splat_ against the ground and therefore lose his first friend in the Wizarding World outside of those he is bound to.

Instead, Neville bounces when he reaches the ground, like some sort of demented beach ball. Harry watches in amazement as Neville surges upward again, past Harry and his family, above the house. He falls downward only to bounce again, all the way down the rolling hills and into the road at the bottom.

Everyone stands and stares in stunned silence.

"Did he really just-" Augusta gasps.

"Yes. Yes he did," Harry nods, amazed.

Then Neville stands up, looks up at them all, and bursts into hysterical tears. Next to him, so does Augusta, but more from happiness rather than terror.

"I told you that you were powerful, mate!" Harry calls, not stopping himself from grinning. Draco will have a field day with this one.

* * *

 _Hello, daughter._

 _Evil little one. So perfect and Dark. I am so very proud of your progress over the course of just nine years of life._

 _Tell me, daughter: do you feel the heat inside of you? I had fire magic, too._

 _Burn for me, Aveline. Show me how worthy you are to share my blood._

 _BURN._

Aveline screams. She screams and screams even though by now her lungs should have run out of air. Around her, the room blazes in fire hotter than any she has ever produced before. There are burn marks on her arms and stomach and legs. Never before has her own fire burned her.

The door is thrown open. Through the darkness, fire, and smoke, she sees Severus. His eyes are wide with fear and observation. He waves his wand and water streams out, not even uttering anything aloud. Then the fire is gone, but she and everything around her is drenched to the bone.

"Aveline! Aveline, speak. Tell me what happened, child."

She can't. All she can do is scream. She still hears the hissing voice in her ear, in her mind. Desperation fills Severus, and she sees it though she cannot respond to it.

 _Not even in Hogwarts yet, my child, and yet you've already befriended my most hated enemy. You are very efficient, daughter._

She is awake, and yet the voice continues. She stops breathing entirely, choking on the taste of smoke in her throat as Severus Apparates them both to the Manor.

"Narcissa, Lucius," he calls, knowing they have felt the wards and will be awake. His voice is controlled for her benefit, but she can hear the panic in his tone. It is nothing compared to the terror inside her; terror of her father, terror of herself, terror of the parts of him she recognizes in herself. Terror, because this is what she was made for and she knows that now.

She writhes in the arms of the man her father entrusted her to as Voldemort takes possession of her mind and body.

" _You have been a most loyal servant, Severus. I am proud."_

 _Aveline is somewhere far away. She does not have a body. She does not have a mind. She can feel her skin straining to contain the beast within her._

 _Her vocal cords speak but the voice is not hers._

" _My Lord," Severus mutters lowly, "I must implore you to release the child. She is not nearly strong enough to contain you. You may end her."_

 _The beast ignores his plea. It has spotted another servant guarding the door of the guest bedroom, wand out. "Ah, and Lucius. Still so loyal."_

 _Lucius flicks a glance at what used to be Aveline. He looks away again. He can barely stand the sight. "Indeed, my Lord."_

 _Another spasm wracks the muscles the beast inhabits and the vocal cords scream in an inhuman sort of way and the beast retreats for just a moment, long enough for Aveline to see tears stream down Severus's face._

" _Mum? Mother, what in Merlin's name-"_

" _Draco, darling, get back!"_

" _But Sirius is here, he has Harry. We know something is wrong; we can't feel her, Mum."_

" _Draco, love, please return to your room!"_

 _Sirius strides into the room, pushing past the Malfoy heir in the doorway and drawing back the curtain._

 _He gasps, seemingly strangled, when he sees._

" _How in the hell is that bastard possessing her? He doesn't even have a body. And how are the other two not affected?"_

" _We don't know!" Narcissa screeches. The muscles have started to spasm again, trying to accommodate the beast. The body grows weaker. Aveline watches from far away. "Please, Sirius, don't mention them at the moment."_

" _I can't do anything. No one can do anything but Aveline now." Severus has no inflection left in his voice._

 _The beast has enough control over the body to make the mouth grin at Sirius. It is a demonic grin, just the way the beast likes it. "Ah, the other Black brother. How wonderful to find you in my presence at last."_

" _Go to hell you motherfucker," Sirius snarls. The eyes watch Lucius gape comically, watch Narcissa begin to sob, watch Severus raise his eyebrows dispassionately._

 _Then they watch as Sirius brings out an athame that Aveline recognizes from far away and splits his palm open. The blood spills out and onto the face, blocking the view of the eyes and turning everything red._

" _Come back to us, Aveline. Come back now, love," Sirius pants._

Aveline is jarred back into her body very abruptly, and everything she knows is pain. She calls out for the one that has always taken care of her, that has held her through all the pain she has ever known in this life.

"Severus!"

"She's back!" Narcissa gasps. Instantly everyone is a whirlwind of motion.

Lucius ushers her boys out of the room even though every part of her soul is calling out for them, and their souls for her.

Narcissa begins to snatch healing potions, and Severus grasps her face and peers into her eyes.

She stares back. It is all she can do.

"Aveline, I need you to be very strong for me now," he whispers. Then he murmurs a spell she has never heard before and suddenly there are three in her mind.

Severus does not feel painful the way her father does. Instead he tiptoes across her mind, pulling out the things he needs and then replacing them gently.

 _Do as I say. Do as I show you._

This voice belongs to Severus. She nods even though she doesn't think she can see him. She still feels as though she is on fire.

Severus shows her several memories of his own, plants them in her head; him as a gangly teenager, mastering Occlumency.

 _Close your mind. Close it as I learned to close it. Close it to everyone but you, Aveline. Do it now._

It is her last chance and she knows it. She focuses very hard and slams the walls around her mind closed, transforms them into iron, and then steel.

The beast is forced out first, suctioned out of her head until not even a wisp is left. Severus is shoved out afterward, more gently but so forcefully that when he arrives back into his own head, he stumbles backward several feet.

Sirius catches him by the arms, supporting him for several long moments. Sirius doesn't even seem to notice his new charge, just scans Aveline with his dark, dark eyes. "Alright now, love?"

She nods, and he instantly drops her caregiver unceremoniously to the floor. Severus lands hard, but stands and is at her side in a second, brushing her matted hair away from her forehead.

She can hear Draco and Harry yelling angrily from a room several doors down. Their anger and worry course through her. She doesn't have the energy to send them anything back.

She is so sore she imagines she'll never move again.

"Oh Aveline, oh sweetheart, my poor baby…" Narcissa croons, and begins to apply burn ointment to all of Aveline's physical wounds. They are deep and putrid, the skin around some of them black, with the subsistence of jelly.

"Will she be alright, Narcissa?" Lucius asks, worry creasing his brow. It is the first time Aveline has seen the man afraid.

"Yes, yes, the burns are already starting to heal. There won't even be a scar. The flames weren't Dark."

"They were mine," Aveline whispers. "The flames were mine. I was dreaming and he was in the dream, telling me to burn, so I guess I did…"

Sirius and Severus share a dire look that has nothing to do with their rivalry and everything to do with her. It scares her. "Where are Draco and Harry? I need them here."

"Sweetheart," Narcissa says, rubbing on the last of the thick potion, "I don't think they should see you like this. It may frighten them, you see."

"They're more frightened not knowing what is going on," Aveline argues. "I need them."

Sirius sighs. "And what do you propose we tell them, love? That Lord Voldemort somehow possessed a random girl he has no conn-"

He stops at the guilty looks on everyone's faces. Aveline never thought she would see the Malfoys ashamed. "What am I missing?"

Severus steps in. Aveline holds her breath. She couldn't bear to see the look on Sirius's face if it were revealed that she is the offspring of a monster. "Voldemort knew of the girl's existence before his downfall. He had… plans, for her. What precisely those plans were I cannot say."

Sirius looks shocked enough by just this half-truth. "Merlin. You lot weren't joking when you said she needed protection, eh? Well, alright. Bring in the little blokes. They'll drive themselves mad waiting."

Lucius sighs and Narcissa spells her bandages firmly in place while he goes to retrieve Draco and Harry. Aveline can hear them crashing down the hallway like a hurricane before they reach the door. Draco's eyes are blazing, and Harry seems as though he wants to cry.

"IF ANY OF YOU EVER, EVER KEEP HER FROM US AGAIN, I WILL-" Draco is beyond livid, the words flying from his mouth like daggers. His normally combed hair is sticking up in all directions.

"Draco, don't," Aveline interjects, and shakily holds her arms out. Both Harry and Draco rush into them, collapsing on either side of her. Harry is shaking; Draco is growling nonsense into her ears, threatening the earth and the sky and the gods if anything ever hurts her again.

"It's okay, I'm okay," she whispers. The nearness of their souls comforts her frazzled and injured one. Their magic surrounds her in a shining, golden globe. Harry's magic is beautiful and pure and strong. Aveline almost cries at the love she finds there. Draco's magic intertwines itself with Harry's, sparking at the edges. His is powerful, bold, and protective. Narcissa gasps in awe and moves to touch the globe surrounding the three of them; as soon as her finger touches the membrane of magic, she is shocked horribly by Draco's.

Harry's magic reaches out and soothes the shock away. The golden tendril then falls perfectly back into place in the globe. "Sorry," he says, smiling sheepishly. "Draco doesn't want any of us touched at the moment. Especially not our magic."

There is an ancient understanding in them now. They are three souls that are really one. They are one soul that is really three. It has always been this way, and always will be. They belong to each other, are meant for each other. There is rarely love as great as this.

"This is so bizarre," Sirius says, watching them all closely for signs of alarm. But there could never be pain or fear here. They are together.

"Aveline will be just fine, now that someone restored us to her," Draco half-snarls, glaring at all the adults in turn, and cuddles in closer. He buries his face in Aveline's neck. He has known her smell, her skin, her hair his entire existence. He has never not been able to sense her. He never wants her taken from him again.

"We should rest. We should all rest. That will help her, I think," Harry suggests. He doesn't know how he knows this. The magic surrounding them seems to know all, to whisper instructions to him like instincts.

"Well darlings, won't you at least allow us to move her somewhere more… clean?" Narcissa asks, a hint of her snobbishness coming out at the mess on the bed. Aveline is still covered in Sirius's blood.

Draco makes an irritated noise, but Harry nods. Draco has trusted Harry with his mind, his emotions. He has known Harry's thoughts, Harry's instincts, Harry's feelings for his entire life. He trusts Harry as he trusts no one else. If Harry thinks Aveline should be moved, she probably should be. So Draco slowly allows his magic to fall, and Harry does the same. The globe fades, and then is gone.

Severus casts a lifting charm on Aveline. She sighs; the weightless feeling calms her. She is surrounded by people who love her; people who would do anything for her. It doesn't matter which side they are loyal to anymore, as long as they are loyal to her. Everyone here proved that loyalty tonight.

Someone casts a Scourgify, and Narcissa shoos the boys long enough to change Aveline into one of the slips she leaves at the Manor to sleep in. Then she is being tucked into Egyptian cotton sheets, and her boys are crawling into bed next to her. The globe of magic returns, the healing of her soul continues, and she is just drifting into sleep when she hears someone sigh, "It's bloody three in the morning."

Severus bends over Draco, slipping easily through the golden globe to kiss her forehead. It is the most physical affection he has ever shown her. "Happy ninth birthday, then, Aveline."

* * *

It is Halloween, and everyone has gathered at Sirius's apartment in Muggle London. Blaise Zabini, Neville Longbottom, Theodore Nott, Luna Lovegood, and all of their parents crowd into the small foyer.

Draco's parents, Sirius, and Severus are all setting up a "haunted house" in the rest of his apartment.

"Say, Mr. Black wouldn't happen to be single, would he?" Blaise's mother, (currently between husbands) practically purrs. She's a striking woman, all sharp angles and smooth curves, dark skin and red lips. Blaise resembles her quite a bit; he'll grow up to be very handsome.

"Yes, but he doesn't quite fancy your type, Chiara," Augusta snipes. The falcon on her hat seems to glare at the woman.

Chiara glares right back. "Oh, and what type would that be?"

Augusta sniffs. "Come now, honey, there are children present."

Mairead hides a smile behind her hand. Xeno grabs her other one, not even bothering to mask his chuckle.

Chiara squeaks indignantly. "Honestly! The nerve of some people! Blaise, Theo, I'll be back at the Manor in the morning to pick you both up."

With much clacking of heels and a whiff of perfume, she's out the door and gone.

Blaise takes a deep breath. "It's about time. I thought she'd never leave. Thanks, Augusta."

Augusta snickers and reaches out to pinch his cheek. "Oh you cheeky little darling, you. Be more respectful of your mother."

Sirius pokes his head out of the black curtain he'd erected earlier to hide the "haunted" part of the house from view. "Is that frightening gold digger gone?"

"Yes," Aveline giggles. She thinks it's sweet that they've gone to all this trouble to ensure she and her friends have fun. However, after being possessed by her father, she doesn't think Halloween is liable to scare her.

"Good," Sirius nods firmly, "now the party can start! My lovely adults, refreshments in the form of cake and Butterbeer are in the kitchen. Children, make a line. Quickly, now. Luna, Neville, no snogging in the back now, hear?"

Neville turns a bright red that is borderline dangerous, and Augusta smacks Sirius upside the head with her giant purse on her way to the kitchen.

Luna smiles sweetly at Sirius. "Oh, I don't think you have to worry about that just yet, Sirius. Maybe when we're older."

Mairead doubles over in hysterical laughter. "That's my little girl! Oh, wipe that look off your face, Xeno, Neville is a lovely boy." She pushes her husband after Augusta and into the kitchen.

Aveline loops her arms through Draco's and Harry's. Sirius bends down to look her in the eye. She's dressed in a Muggle witch costume, wart and all. Even Severus had gotten a snicker out of it. Sirius tweaks the tip of her pointy hat. "Are you prepared to be petrified?"

"I certainly won't be," Aveline sniffs and throws a teasing glance at Theo, "but you might want to have some spare mandrakes around in case Nott faints."

Theo scowls at her. He doesn't talk much, but he can give looks that could kill. He steps in line behind Luna and Neville.

Sirius leads them through the obstacle course of fake Inferi, ghosts, ghouls, trolls, giants, and acromantulas. Luna screams once or twice and buries her face in Neville's collar. The two had only met a few times before this, but had become quick friends.

"Luna, don't," Neville says and shoves her off of him. "Everyone will think we're… _you know_!"

Draco snickers next to Aveline. "Yeah," he mutters lowly, "like anyone would ever _you know_ with Longbottom."

Aveline smacks him lightly on the arm, not even jumping when Lucius leaps out in front of them, glamored to look like a vampire. Harry nearly pees himself though, and then cracks up laughing.

"Merlin, Father, it's not as though you're not pale enough!" Draco snickers.

"Be quiet son," Lucius scolds around fake teeth, "you're ruining the illusion. These things are terribly fun, you know. Don't tell your mother I said that."

When they reach the end of the tour, Sirius leaves them to open the last door alone and go grab a Butterbeer for himself. "Have fun," he says and wiggles his eyebrows. Then he points at Neville. "Not too much fun, though, Longbottom. Hands off Lovegood."

Neville swoons just a little on his feet.

"What do you think is behind the door?" Luna asks.

"Probably a bunch of jinxes," Theo mutters cynically. He never has fun anywhere.

"They wouldn't do that," Harry shakes his head. "It's probably something really nice! I hope."

"Maybe it's a boggart," Blaise grins wickedly.

"Oh honestly, let's just open it already," Draco rolls his eyes and reaches for the knob.

Inside, Sirius's study has been transformed. Jack-o-lanterns line the edges of the room, and candles float near the ceiling, providing the only light. The walls have been turned transparent, so they can see Muggle children all dressed up and trick-or-treating below them on the street. Cauldrons full of candy sit in the middle of the room, each cauldron engraved with their names.

"Whoa," Theo breathes. He brushes his dark hair out of his eyes and smears his face paint.

"Well, let's not just stand here," Luna says calmly and pushes at Draco's shoulders until he moves. The children spill into the room and to each of their cauldrons.

Several hours later, they're each in a candy-coma.

"Ugh. Please, someone take me to Saint Mungo's. I simply can't go on. I've eaten myself to death," Blaise moans, sprawled out across the floor.

"If you don't want the rest of your cauldron, pass it to me," Luna shrugs. She's eaten hers entirely and half of Neville's.

"How are you not dead yet, Luna? I mean honestly," Draco demands. He'd only gotten three quarters of the way through his own cauldron.

"I keep breathing."

Aveline giggles and tackles her next chocolate frog. She's gotten Dumbledore's card four times just tonight. She misses the look Draco and Blaise exchange entirely, and Blaise's brief nod, but then Draco clears his throat.

Harry senses Draco's solemn mood at the same time Aveline does, and together they stare at him.

"Listen, everyone, Blaise and I have a… proposition, for you all."

Aveline lets go of the chocolate frog. It hops away, past the wards, and falls to the concrete outside with a splat. A Muggle child dressed as a corpse bride looks up, half hopeful and half confused.

"What is it, Malfoy?" Theo asks, seemingly disinterested, but Aveline noticed his eyes light up for the first time.

"Well, see, Blaise and I were conversing some time ago… right before last Christmas, actually."

Harry frowns at both Blaise and Draco. "You two have been cooking up something for almost a year and you haven't told me, Draco?"

Guilt shoots through Aveline. They still don't know who her father is.

"We were talking about social circles, and about Hogwarts," Draco goes on through gritted teeth. "And about how some people go in with alliances already made; with a trusted and, er, solid group of friends."

Theo seems to understand immediately, but Neville and Luna just seem confused.

Aveline thinks that Draco is very, very smart.

Blaise jumps in. "Look, Draco and I are all but guaranteed to be sorted into Slytherin, and in Slytherin there's a sort of hierarchy about things. We plan to be at the top of it, and we want all of you to be in our-"

"Ruling family?" Luna cuts in with a small and knowing smile.

"Precisely," Draco nods. "No one would ever be expecting it. We would be… powerful."

Neville is frowning. He's more disturbed by the offer than grateful. "Look, Draco, it's nice of you to offer lifelong friendship and everything, but, um, I don't think I'm going to be in Slytherin. At all."

Draco smirks. "Exactly, Longbottom. Exactly."

Aveline gasps, the true implications sinking in. "You want to create an inter-house network, rather than just assert yourself amongst the Slytherins. Don't you?"

Oh, her soul mate is so, so smart. She's so lucky.

"Well," Draco shrugs, as though he isn't terribly pleased with himself, "the only outward and visible alliance would be between whichever of us is Sorted into Slytherin. At least for awhile. But we would all remain loyal to one another, for good, no matter what. Eventually, when the time is right, we slowly reveal just how… broad our circle of friends truly is."

Everyone is quiet for a moment. There are vast implications to swearing fealty to each other. They are all from very different backgrounds. Only recently have they begun to socialize as a group.

Finally, Luna says in a whisper, "I don't want to lose any of you when you all go off to Hogwarts. You're all a year older than me, you know. And if you get Sorted into different houses and then grow distant, I might not have anyone when I arrive."

"You'd always have me, Luna," Neville says strongly. It's the first time in his life he's ever sounded authoritative.

Draco smiles.

"We could help each other. Having the knowledge of all the Houses rather than just one or two… it could be good," Harry nods slowly.

One by one, everyone agrees.

The other Slytherin socialites won't even know what hit them when they all get to Hogwarts. Aveline is more than pleased with this. The other Purebloods and upstanding half-bloods will arrive, expecting to be at the top of the food chain, and find themselves uprooted by an exclusive group they never saw coming.

Aveline feels protected. Aveline feels cared for. But more importantly, Aveline feels powerful.

Perhaps she should be less concerned with who is loyal to her father, and more concerned with who is loyal to her.

Then when she leads, they will follow.

It won't even matter if she's Dark or not.

* * *

Draco turns ten with much fanfare.

"One more year," Harry grins.

"One more year," Aveline echoes.

It beats like a drum through their veins- the place where their lives will begin.

Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hogwarts.

* * *

Aveline turns ten surrounded by her friends. They have affectionately started referring to their little group as "The Circle". She loves it. She loves them. She loves everything.

Sirius gives her an athame of her very own; it has a large piece of onyx embedded in the hilt. The rest is made of silver. Remus Lupin, whom she doesn't know very well yet but likes very much, also comes with Sirius, and gifts her with a book about the ancient Celts. She's excited to find it's one she hasn't read yet.

Narcissa gives her a beautiful gray silk cloak that matches the color of Draco's eyes. Lucius hands her ten Galleons because he's "terrible at purchasing things for little girls". Harry got her unicorns made out of cotton candy that prance around until they are eaten. Luna gives her earrings in the shape of rainbows; Luna has been obsessed with earrings lately, ever since they got their ears pierced at a Muggle shop together. Neville gives her an awkward hug and a misshapen fuchsia hat that Augusta had deemed "darling". Draco gives her a painting of a dragon with a bunch of empty frames- the dragon flies from frame to frame, around and around her room. Theo gives her a silver bracelet with a rune on it without looking at her and mutters something under his breath about it meaning _fate_. He wears one on his own wrist that matches, but with a rune that means _friendship_ , and Aveline has enough courtesy to pretend not to notice.

Severus gives her the best gift of all.

"I'm going to regret this so much," he grumbles, rolling his eyes. He goes into the house, and then comes back out again with something hidden under his robes.

"Close your eyes," he says at Narcissa's urging. Aveline does and holds out both hands. Something warm and fuzzy and small is placed in her palms.

It moves, and she starts, then opens her eyes and grins.

A tiny black kitten rests comfortably in her hands. It's clearly the runt of the litter, and has bright blue eyes. A matching blue ribbon is tied around its little neck.

It blinks at her and mews once.

"Oh!" Aveline gasps. She'd never entertained the idea of having a pet before. Severus had never really seemed the type. "Oh, Severus, she's perfect! Thank you so, so, so much!"

She carefully hands her new kitten to a beaming Narcissa, and then launches herself into Severus's arms. He stands stock-still for a moment, and then pats her back.

"I love you, Severus," Aveline whispers, so quiet only he can hear.

She feels him gasp, and then draws away, back to her kitten.

"What should I name him?" Aveline giggles with Luna.

She ignores the way Severus stares at her for the rest of the night.

* * *

"So how's Jinx?" Luna asks. She's been hanging upside down on her bed for half an hour at least, and her face isn't even red.

"She's fine," Aveline shrugs. Her kitten had quickly grown out of being a runt under her care. She's strong and has smooth, shiny fur.

She also makes Severus sneeze. Aveline thinks it's cute.

"I'm thinking of knitting her another sweater," Luna continues. "Did she like the last one?"

As a matter of fact, Jinx had entirely unraveled the last one and had clawed Aveline's arm open when she tried to put it on her. Aveline doesn't mention this. "Oh, she quite enjoyed it. Thank you Luna."

"I'll run downstairs and ask Mum for more yarn," Luna says.

Aveline sighs and gets up to follow her. Perhaps Mairead will have something good to eat. She's a fabulous cook.

The two girls skip down the stairs and through the kitchen. The door to Mairead's lab is slightly ajar, and Aveline can see her furiously scribbling notes.

"We probably shouldn't disturb her," Aveline whispers.

"Oh, nonsense," Luna says, shaking her blonde head. Aveline watches her curls bounce with envy. Her hair doesn't do anything; it's straight as a pin. "She won't mind."

Luna reaches the lab door and swings it open. In the same instant, Mairead pours a bright purple substance into a cauldron containing something decidedly green.

Not even a full second later, and the whole cauldron bubbles over. Mairead gasps, and then the explosion happens.

The floor beneath them vibrates; Aveline pushes Luna to the floor. Mairead is gone straight away, a shard of cauldron lodged in her throat. The explosion destroys everything in the room, coating everything in a thick and sticky acid. An entire section of wall is blown away.

It is the most abrupt and violent thing Aveline has ever witnessed. One moment, everything is perfectly normal. The next, everything is gone. The world is uprooted.

Underneath her, Luna is staring uncomprehendingly at her mother's body and whimpering. Aveline's heart beats loud in her ears. The air seems to ring. There is so much blood. Hers and Luna's, and so much more staining Mairead's blonde hair. Blonde hair like Luna's. Curls like Luna's that will no longer bounce.

The panic travels straight through the link, straight to Harry and Draco, and a scream starts somewhere deep in her stomach, travels through her throat, and escapes through her mouth. Tears follow, hot and tragic.

Mairead is gone. The woman she considered a mother figure, second only to Narcissa, is gone. No more snacks. No more jokes and winks.

Underneath her, reality seems to set in for Luna. Aveline's single scream seems to trigger something in the younger girl. Luna begins to struggle underneath Aveline, hit and claw at her face in an effort to get to Mairead. Animalistic cries, angry and wounded and full of grief, tear themselves out of Luna's mouth.

"No, Luna, no you can't, I'm sorry," Aveline gasps. She is still sobbing herself. Another scream starts.

That is how Molly Weasley finds them when she arrives; lying on the ground next to Mairead Lovegood's body, screaming and crying and fighting each other and holding on to each other desperately. Acid has eaten through their clothing and parts of their skin. She takes in the scene of destruction and deduces immediately what happened; Mairead always did like to experiment.

Molly knows Luna quite well, having been a neighbor to the child since birth, but she hasn't a clue who the other girl is. She sends a Patronus to Arthur immediately. Within minutes, authorities from the Ministry arrive to survey the scene and take the body.

It takes three Healers from Saint Mungo's to hold Luna down long enough to shove Calming Droughts down her throat, and then a Dreamless Sleep potion. Aveline takes hers without much of a struggle, but she is too hysterical to answer the questions of the Healers.

The last thing Aveline sees before sleeping is Luna being Portkeyed away and Mairead's body being photographed.

Aveline wakes several hours later in a hospital room. She has never been to Saint Mungo's. It's really quite clean. Loud, angry voices sound from the hallway outside her room.

"Do you have ANY IDEA who we are?! I will withdraw funding for your entire wing. I will have you fired and you will have your Healing license entirely revoked if I am not allowed in to see her RIGHT THIS INSTANT." Lucius is practically roaring.

"Honestly, Healer Morgan, be reasonable," Narcissa chimes in, voice colder than Aveline has ever heard it.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Malfoy, I'm under strict orders not to allow anyone in to see the girl until her guardian arrives, whoever that is-"

It is then that the Calming Drought wears off.

The panic hits her tenfold. All Aveline can see is the body of Mairead, lying there bleeding out on what was left of the floor.

Aveline rips the magical needles from her arm and lunges off the hospital bed. She falls to her knees- she'd underestimated the height of the bed. She shakily gets up and sprints to the door of the hospital room. It has been locked from the outside. This does nothing to quell her panic.

"LUCIUS," she shrieks. She wonders where Harry is, where Draco is, where Severus is. "LUCIUS, PLEASE. LUCIUS, PLEASE!"

She does not know what she is begging for, but she knows she needs protection. She is alone here, in a hospital that never even knew she existed. She is without records, without Severus, and she just watched Luna's mother die.

Narcissa is trying to calm her from outside the door, and Lucius is threatening bodily harm to whoever Healer Morgan is, but the terror inside of Aveline is all-consuming.

"LUCIUS PLEASE GET THE DOOR OPEN. LUCIUS PLEASE. NARCISSA I NEED YOU, I NEED HARRY AND DRACO, SOMEONE PLEASE. MAIREAD IS DEAD. MAIREAD IS-" Aveline chokes on her words.

She is only ten years old. Ten, and someone has died. It was an accident that Aveline had nothing to do with, but she is dead. How many more will she watch die? How could she possibly be the cause of a death someday? She knows the instinct to kill runs in her veins. Doesn't it? Her father did that, to so many people, and he expects her to someday do it as well. She will have to watch more deaths, be the cause of more deaths, endorse more deaths, Revel in Darkness and Evil and Death.

Aveline cannot breathe. The air is coming too fast, but it doesn't feel like it's coming at all.

She just watched someone _die_.

Suddenly, the door dissolves entirely. Someone has Vanished the entire thing. She falls through the doorway and lands in a heap on the floor at Narcissa's feet.

"Darling, there you are," Narcissa croons, and bends to gather Aveline to her chest. She picks her up as though she weighs nothing and carries her back to her hospital bed. Lucius charges into the room. Draco is nowhere in sight.

Healer Morgan isn't, either. It seems Lucius's threats finally got to him.

"Breathe, Aveline," Lucius instructs sternly. For once, his authority doesn't work. She simply can't.

"Come on, darling, breathe or else we'll have to get that infernal Healer back here," Narcissa mutters irritably.

"W-where's Sev-Severus?" Aveline demands.

"On his way, sweetheart. I promise."

"D-Draco? H-H-Harry?"

"They felt it when you were hit by the debris, and then felt your panic," Lucius says quietly. "We couldn't get them calm and so left them with Sirius in London."

It is only this thought that reaches Aveline. She tries very hard to take a deep breath, not for herself but for her soul mates. They are in pain. They are terrified out of their minds because she is. She has to calm down for them.

Within minutes, she is calm enough to feel them again. They are shouting questions at her through the link, scared half to death. She sends them reassuring vibes through their connection, lots of love and tranquility. Then she allows them to feel her grief, and shows them both images of Mairead dead on the ground through her memories.

Their grief is echoed back to her.

 _I love you_ , she thinks to both of them, as fiercely as she can.

 _I love you._ Harry echoes.

 _I love you._ Draco howls.

They are with her, even if it's not physically. They love her. She will be okay.

She opens her eyes to find Lucius and Narcissa watching her. "I'm okay."

"Are you sure? We can bring that idiotic man back here if it's really necessary," Lucius offers, clearly still annoyed.

"I'm sure. Thank you. I apologize for being so irrational."

She is not used to people seeing her out of control, grief-stricken, vulnerable. It makes her uncomfortable.

Thankfully, formality is a language Narcissa understands perfectly. "It's quite alright, sweetheart. There's nothing to forgive." Narcissa kisses her on the forehead.

Aveline is just beginning to inquire after Luna when Severus swoops into the room. He looks Darker than ever. In fact, he looks homicidal. Sirius is right behind him, and for the first time looks as though he has in fact killed a man before and would be quite thrilled to do so again.

The two of them are much more alike than they'd care to admit.

Severus's black robes sweep behind him and his shiny, long black hair hangs in his eyes. He looks like an angel of destruction. Sirius walks with an aristocratic cane in his hand, the handle carved to portray a wolf-like dog. He seems to want nothing more than to beat someone with it.

Lucius notices it too. "Say, Sirius, I quite like that cane. Where might I aquire one?"

"Just a little something I picked up a week ago," Sirius shrugs. "I can give you the name of the bloke later. Operates a quaint little place on Knockturn."

Lucius seems further impressed.

Aveline relaxes a bit more. That cane is probably so hexed to anyone other than Sirius that contact with it would do much more damage than break bones. She is in good hands.

"Hello, Sirius. Hello, Severus," she mumbles quietly from Narcissa's arms. "I'd appreciate going home now. Or perhaps to the Manor. Somewhere cool and dark to sleep would be grand."

"I could kill that woman twice over," Severus growls to Lucius, ignoring Aveline entirely. "The absolute nerve of it, experimenting with my child in her home!"

Narcissa snickers in Aveline's ear. "Oh, look at that. Severus has turned into a mother hen."

Aveline barely hears her. The words _my child_ reverberate in her head.

"Now, Severus. We lost a dear friend today," Lucius scolds, but he seems as amused as Narcissa.

"Yes, and I almost lost my daughter. That kind of occurrence tends to put things in perspective, you know. What if it had been Draco, Lucius? I'm so furious I was actually contemplating taking the Pureblood route and suing someone on the way here before I realized she was no longer alive to sue. The Quibbler doesn't make enough to even be worth Black's lawyers…"

 _My child. My daughter. My child. My daughter._

 _My child._

 _My daughter._

Suddenly it seems to hit Severus all at once. He runs his fingers through his hair, pushing it away from his face. He seems to have gained ten years in ten minutes. "Salazar. Mairead is dead. I thought this shite ended with the war."

 _My child my daughter Mairead is dead my child my daughter._

It is all too much for Aveline.

She tries to cry as quietly as possible and can't. Her sobs come out in keening howls.

Severus's face softens, and he takes her out of Narcissa's arms. She buries her face in his shoulder and smells the soap he makes because he hates store-bought.

"Lucius, Sirius, I trust between the two of you, her papers and records of this visit will be taken care of?" Severus asks. The two men nod, and Severus nods back. He holds out his arm to Narcissa. She takes it hurriedly, and they Apparate on the spot.

They are both shocked to find Augusta Longbottom already at the Manor, coddling a sniffling Luna. Neville sits off to the side, and it's evident he'd also been crying.

"Xenophilius is… distraught. Quite beside himself, really. Naturally, I stepped in," she explains coolly at their questioning gazes.

"Naturally," Narcissa agrees. "Please, Mrs. Longbottom, feel free to stay here with Miss Lovegood as long as necessary. We have plenty of spare rooms. Severus, I'm going to retrieve the boys. I'll be right back."

Severus gestures to Augusta. Together, they carry the girls up the many flights of stairs and to Aveline's favorite guest bedroom- the one with green furnishings and a view of the gardens. It is always very cool and dark, exactly as she had requested back at the hospital.

Aveline stares at Luna. Luna stares at Aveline. Augusta goes back downstairs to check on Neville. Severus sits down in a chair to keep watch over the two girls.

"I'm so sorry, Luna," Aveline whispers.

Luna is quiet a moment. Her wide eyes are swollen. She looks horrid. "We'll both be fine. My father is going to take good care of me, you know. And I've thought a lot about it. In the hospital, and with my father, and even when Augusta came to get me. I'll see my mother again, I think. Not any time soon. But eventually. In the meantime, I'm sure The Circle will be here. They'll take care of me as well. You, too. Neville was lovely earlier."

Aveline is quiet, just as Luna was quiet before. Then she says, "You know, Harry and Draco always think it's good for me to rest after I'm hurt. We should probably sleep."

Luna considers this. "I'm very, very hurt, Aveline. I'll have to sleep for a very long time, I think, if their theory is correct."

Aveline nods. She wants to cry but there are no more tears left. "Me, too."

So the girls hold hands, and they fall asleep, and they sleep in their dreams, too. They sleep like that for a long, long time.

* * *

Things are bad for a while after Mairead dies. Xeno is not quite all there anymore. Neither is Luna.

The Circle, however, stays strong.

Aveline's Elemental powers grow somehow stronger. In her grief, she creates whirlwinds of fire that wipe out entire sections of the forest near Beathan. Then with a wave of her hand, she recreates the forest only to destroy it again the next time with water.

She feels Darker every day. Death took something from her. Now she wants to take and take and take until there is nothing left to be had.

On the nine month anniversary of Mairead's death, Aveline dreams of her. Usually the dreams about Mairead are dreams about how she died. This night, they are dreams of her on a never ending island, under a never ending sky of bright blue, and she is laughing a never ending laugh. She is waiting for Luna, waiting for Xeno, waiting for everyone she left behind. She will keep waiting until they join her.

In the dream, there is no Darkness anywhere. Only Light.

Aveline wakes up, and when she does, the Darkness inside her is miraculously gone. In her head, she sees Mairead wink at her one last time.

* * *

Draco turns eleven.

Lucius and Narcissa gift him with an eagle owl. This September, he goes to Hogwarts. He will need to write them. Draco names the owl Hermes.

Severus gives Draco something for protection- the talisman Aveline wasn't supposed to know Dumbledore advised years ago. It's a long silver chain with the ancient rune for power and strength on the end of it. He puts it around his neck and seems to stand straighter.

The pounding in their veins grows ever-louder. The future is so close they can taste it.

Hogwarts Hogwarts Hogwarts Hogwarts…

* * *

Aveline turns eleven.

To her surprise, she also receives an owl. Not from Severus, of course, seeing as he'll be at Hogwarts with her. Lucius and Narcissa have purchased it for her. They want a letter once a week, no exceptions. So does Sirius. So does Augusta. So does Xeno.

Her owl is entirely black, just like Jinx. She despairs that she will only be permitted to take one of them to school until Severus rolls his eyes and declares he'll take the cat.

Aveline names her owl Isis.

Late that night, after all her guests are gone, Severus gives her a talisman. Hers is in the form of a necklace also, only hers has four long, attached chains. From each chain hangs a large stone; blue tourmaline, to assist her water Element; pure moonstone, to assist her air Element; green moss agate, to assist her earth Element; and a blood-red sunstone, to assist her fire Element.

It is the simplest and prettiest and most useful thing anyone has ever given her, except for perhaps Isis.

So close. So close.

 _Hogwarts Hogwarts HogwartsHogwarts…_

* * *

Neville turns eleven.

He gets a toad.

"Figures," he mutters under his breath to Luna. "You can name the stupid thing."

They're all convinced she'll pick the most ludicrous name in the history of names, so it surprises everyone when she takes one look at the hideous thing and declares, "Trevor."

* * *

Harry turns eleven.

Sirius gets him an owl.

Harry's owl is a perfect snowy white, with a curious disposition and soulful eyes. He names her Hedwig.

To Aveline's surprise, Severus has picked Harry's talisman as well. It is a necklace matching Draco's, only his rune is for wisdom and love.

Harry still blushes whenever he receives a present, or cake, or even a smile on his own birthday. He's not quite used to being celebrated on such a personal level.

The Dursleys deserve death of the most painful kind. They really do.

No matter.

They are so close they can practically see the steam from the Express.

The thought sings in their veins.

 _HOGWARTS HOGWARTS HOGWARTSHOGWARTS!_

* * *

Aveline wakes up.

It is September first.

She smiles.

It's time to finally, finally, go to Hogwarts.

* * *

 **A/N: As always, thank you all for reading! Please feel free to leave a review, favorite, follow, and share!**


	5. Chapter 5

Aveline, Neville, Theo, Draco, Blaise, and Harry all share a compartment on the Hogwarts Express.

"Sod it all," Draco groans, peering at his chocolate frog card. "I got _another_ Dumbledore."

Harry snickers. "Yeah? Well I got Rowena Ravenclaw."

Draco glares. "I've been trying to collect her for _ages_ -"

"Too bad," Harry snickers. "So have I."

Aveline flips another page in _Hogwarts, A History_. It's really quite boring. There's much more accurate and thorough information in the Black library than in this silly volume. "Now, now, boys. Be nice."

Neville sighs for the umpteenth time. "I'm so nervous. Oh, gods, just let me be Sorted into Hufflepuff already and be done with it!"

Theo looks up sharply. He'd been reading, also, but something much less leisurely and decidedly Dark, a departing gift from his father. Aveline hasn't decided if she wants to ask to borrow it yet or not. "I swear on Merlin's left arsecheek, if you're Sorted into Hufflepuff, I will never speak to you again. Circle be damned."

Neville pales considerably. "But, Theo-"

"No. No exceptions. You're too intelligent to be a Hufflepuff. Shoot for Ravenclaw, why don't you?"

Neville shakes his head vehemently. "Merlin, no. I couldn't! They'd eat me alive. I don't like studying much except plants anyhow."

Theo studies him a moment more, then shrugs. "Whatever. Just not Hufflepuff."

The train turns a sharp curve and Blaise falls over sideways, still snoring. His head makes a sharp crack against the window, and he jolts upright, rubbing his eyes.

Neville huffs out another nervous breath and wipes his sweaty hands on his robes. Instantly, his eyes grow wide and he jumps to his feet with what can only be described as a shriek. "Oh sweet baby Merlin, I've lost Trevor! Oh, Luna's going to murder me if she finds out, she loves the bloody thing…"

Draco cackles, and Harry tries his best to hide a grin behind a pumpkin pasty. Aveline smirks behind her book. She was wondering how long it would take him to notice the toad was gone.

Neville opens the compartment door and slams it behind him, dashing off in a frenzy.

"Someone should probably go help him," groans Theo, and obligingly clamors to his feet. Aveline eyes the book he places in his seat, skimming the title: _A Booke of Magik Moste Foul._

Interesting, and quite advanced, too.

"Severus redid his classroom like I asked him," Aveline announces, tossing her own useless book aside.

"Daddy's girl," Blaise snickers.

She blinks once or twice at him, the word _Daddy_ bouncing around in her chest. Severus as her father. Her dad. Her _Daddy._

Her heart gives a painful lurch in her chest, and she shoves memories of the possession aside.

"Yes well, at least she might make a decent grade in Potions, then, Zabini. We all know you're hopeless. You could hardly help Augusta make the tea last week," Draco sniggers.

Blaise's face turns red. "Hey, Malfoy, watch your mouth! It wasn't _my_ wand that had a hissy fit the first time I ever picked it up."

Getting her wand was one of the best memories Aveline possessed. She'd been waiting all her life to have a wand, to be able to direct real spells with a real tool rather than just Elements with her dull fingers. However, the second Draco had picked up a wand, Harry had as well. The cores had reacted badly with each other. Apparently, the wands of soul mates had to mate as well.

To say the least, choosing wands for the three of them had been nothing short of explosive, and Ollivander was now sworn to secrecy. However, there'd been no way to hide the intense noise emanating from the shop.

Draco sinks into his seat, taking his wand out and twirling it between his fingers, and snarls at Blaise. "Whatever."

At that moment, the compartment door bursts open and a girl with bushy hair and large front teeth sticks her head in. "Has anyone seen a toad? A boy named Neville's lost one."

"We know Neville," Harry rolls his eyes. "Believe me. His toad hasn't exactly come back to his compartment, has it? It'll turn up eventually, though, I'm sure."

The girl grins brightly. "Oh, so this is where he was riding? Well, the toad couldn't exactly have left the train, could it? I'm-" At that moment, she seems to notice the wand in Draco's hand. "Were you about to do magic? Let's see it, then."

And down she plops, right between Harry and Draco. They share a bewildered look over her frizzy hair.

"Er, right, then," Draco mumbles, and points his wand at Neville's trunk. He'd broken the handle trying to lug it onto the train. " _Reparo!"_

The handle snaps back together instantly, and Draco lets out a barely discernable sigh of relief before pasting his smirk back onto his face. "There."

The bizarre girl gives a polite clap, and seems to notice Aveline for the first time. "Oh, hello! I'm Hermione Granger, by the way. Pleasure to meet you."

Aveline shakes her hand, but something rubs her the wrong way about this girl. She is much too enthusiastic. "I'm Aveline. Are you Muggle-born?"

"Oh, yes," says Hermione, waving her hand in a dismissive gesture, "my whole family is made up of, er, Muggles; it was _quite_ the shock to receive a Hogwarts letter, I assure you. Oh, look, we're almost to the station! You lot had better put on your Hogwarts robes, hm?"

Just as quickly as she'd came, Hermione flounces out.

"I don't know what House that crazy bint is going to be Sorted into," Draco says, staring in shock after her, "but I sincerely hope I'm not in it."

"Agreed. She didn't even speak to me, and clearly I'm the most attractive of us all," Blaise sniffs. Aveline can't quite tell if he's serious.

"I dunno," Harry says and shrugs with a grin that reminds her of Sirius, "I kind of liked her."

"Firs' years? Firs' years, follow me! Mind yer step!"

Up until now, Aveline had been quite sure Severus was exaggerating the size of the "great oaf Hagrid". Now she knows she should have believed him. The man is massive and would be rather intimidating if it weren't for his utter incompetence.

Still, he is rather endearing.

They follow the half giant through thick trees, and then comes the first glimpse of Hogwarts.

It is far more than Aveline ever imagined. The castle sits high on the mountain, all of its windows twinkling golden in the dark. The lake lay like a guardian and an offering before it. There were more turrets and towers than Aveline had expected, and a shudder travels through the entire group of first years.

"Merlin," Draco breathes. Silently, he, Harry, and Aveline join hands.

"It's nice," Theo says, appearing behind them like a ghost. Neville, apparently, has found Trevor once again.

"Behold the castle, boys and girls," Blaise smirks. "Then feel free to turn around and bow down to me, your benevolent king."

"No more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid calls. Aveline and her soul mates immediately lunge for the nearest one, and Neville trips into it after them. Trevor lets out an indignant croak when he's invariably squashed.

Theo, Blaise, that Granger girl, and a redheaded boy Aveline's never seen before pile into the boat next to them.

"Everyone in? Alright. _FORWARD!_ " Hagrid shouts. The boats surge toward the castle. Aveline can't tear her eyes away.

The smooth black water of the lake carries them all the way to a small harbor under the school. Neville doesn't duck in time for the tunnel, and smashes his head against the opening.

Aveline follows her other classmates, refusing to relinquish her hold on Harry and Draco. Hagrid leads them to a great wooden door, and then stops. "Wait here!"

The first years huddle in a mass, shivering in anticipation.

"Draco," Harry whispers uncertainly, "what if I get Sorted into a different-"

"Won't happen," Draco snorts dismissively. But Aveline can feel him sending reassurance to Harry through the link. She squeezes both of their hands.

Suddenly, the door swings open to reveal a tall, strict looking teacher. She peers down her nose and through her spectacles at the children waiting there. Aveline likes her immediately without knowing why; mostly because she seems to be very practical.

"Thank you, Hagrid, I can take them on from here," says the woman. "Come along, first years!"

She leads them not into where the Great Hall must be, but into a small room off from the entrance foyer. She proceeds to introduce them to the school.

"Yap, yap… Hush, woman, I just want a feast already," Blaise mutters in Aveline's ear. Theo makes a noise of agreement.

Several students are startled by the presence of ghosts once the woman- Professor McGonagall- leaves them for a few moments. The girl named Hermione begins to berate the redheaded boy, Ronald apparently, for having dirt on his nose before the Sorting Ceremony. Neville manages to lose Trevor once again.

Aveline stands very still and takes deep breaths. There is magic all over the castle. It calls to her in the air.

Finally, McGonagall comes back and orders them into a line. Aveline's breath catches in her chest. This is it.

She walks with the rest of the first years, with Draco in front of her and Harry behind her, through giant double doors, into the Great Hall. All eyes turn to them. There are hundreds of students at four long tables. The ceiling is unlike anything she's ever seen- it's hard for even her to believe that it's not actually the sky.

She darts her eyes instantly to the staff table, and finds Severus's eyes. He's caught her ogling her new school. Aveline blushes, and she watches as a smirk flickers around the corners of his lips.

He looks much Darker and much more intimidating, sitting up there snarling at everyone. She finds it funny, and the thought that he looks a bit like a melancholy bat calms her somewhat. Severus is here. She had almost forgotten.

McGonagall places a stool in front of the first years, and then places an old pointy hat on top of it.

The hat begins to sing, of all things.

" _Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,_

 _But don't judge on what you see,_

 _I'll eat myself if you can find_

 _A smarter hat than me."_

Well. At least the hat has full confidence in its own abilities.

All of the assembled students burst into applause when its song is over. Aveline claps halfheartedly along with everyone else. Draco seems as unimpressed as she. Harry just looks confused.

Then McGonagall begins to call out names.

"Oh, bloody figures it's in alphabetical order. I'll be last," Blaise groans somewhere behind her.

It seems like no time at all, and the professor is calling her name. Aveline's breath catches in her throat and her heart pounds against her ribcage, desperate to get out.

Aveline squares her shoulders. Severus, to his credit, doesn't seem worried at all, but she notices he _is_ sitting on the edge of his chair.

She walks on trembling legs to the stool and sits.

"Ah," says a tiny voice that sounds like an old man in her ear. She is very thankful it isn't in her head.

"Aveline _Enigme_ , hm? Very clever of your father. Don't worry. Your secret is safe with me," the voice continues.

Aveline grips the edges of the stool so hard her knuckles crack and turn white. The rest of the world has disappeared. It is her and the voice now. She squeezes her eyes shut.

"You are really quite the versatile little one, Aveline," the hat goes on. "Really, I could place you anywhere. It's rare that I see a mind like yours."

Aveline remembers Theo's comment on the train. She twists her wrist to finger the rune on the bracelet he gave her all that time ago. _Fate_.

 _Not Hufflepuff_ , she pleads in her head.

"Not Hufflepuff? Why not? It would be good for you, I think. You're much more tolerant than anyone would expect. Irony at its best, my dear. Well, alright. How about Ravenclaw? You certainly have the appetite for learning."

Aveline thinks of her room at Beathan, and of her favorite guest room at the Manor, all dressed in greens. She wishes she was curled up under those blankets, safe and warm, instead of this drafty Great Hall with a million eyes on her and this hat deciding her entire life.

"Hmm. Gryffindor would be good for you too. You're very brave, Aveline. But you're not very impulsive. And it also seems you're loyal only to those who show loyalty to you first. You don't offer it very willingly."

 _Just not Hufflepuff_ , she pleads again. At least if it's Gryffindor, Sirius will be proud.

The hat chuckles quietly. "Alright, alright. That one is off the table. So is Gryffindor, I think. So that leaves Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Tell me, Aveline. If I place you in Slytherin, will it please your father?"

 _Daddy's girl_ , snickers Blaise in her head. It is not Voldemort's face she pictures, but Severus's. _Yes. Yes, he would be pleased._

The hat seems surprised. "Oh. Well that _is_ interesting. Slytherin will be incredible for you, Aveline. You're going to be so… _bold_ by the time you leave Hogwarts. Congratulations."

The hat pauses a moment, and Aveline has enough time to open her eyes and realize everyone is still staring at her when the hat yells, " _SLYTHERIN!_ "

She yanks the hat off her head, and instantly her eyes dart to Severus. He smiles just a bit and nods at her. She grins with relief and walks quickly to her cheering House.

She sinks down onto the bench and watches the next few Sortings with rapt attention. Hermione Granger, to Aveline's great surprise, is Sorted into Gryffindor. She seems more like a Ravenclaw to Aveline. A more intense observation of the girl is needed, it seems. Obviously, if she is somehow brave and loyal enough to be Sorted into Gryffindor, she has some fierce underlying qualities.

Neville also goes to Gryffindor, though the hat seems to take as much time with him as it did with Aveline. She rolls her eyes. He was probably _begging_ the stupid hat to put him in Hufflepuff. Everyone sees how worthwhile he is but him.

Draco's name is called, and the hat barely touches his head before calling out " _SLYTHERIN!"_

Her soul mate is by her side, grinning happily at her and greeting their new housemates, in seconds. Severus gives him a nod, also.

Theo rolls his eyes when the hat is placed on his head. Aveline expects him to be immediately announced, but instead the hat deliberates a moment. Then, to everyone's great surprise, the hat yells out, " _RAVENCLAW!"_

Aveline gasps and shoots her eyes towards Draco and Harry. They look just as shocked as she feels. Theo's father had been a Death Eater. There's no way on earth he should have been Sorted into any other house but Slytherin.

Theo, to his credit, takes it in stride. He shrugs coolly and shuffles over to his House. Aveline narrows her eyes to make sure he's welcomed warmly, but shouldn't have worried. That Justin Finch-Something kid has already clapped a hand on Theo's shoulder.

Before Aveline knows it, it is Harry's turn. For some strange reason, after a few seconds of the hat being placed on his head, intense feelings of confliction and anxiety begin to course through their link.

Aveline and Draco share a worried look.

Then the hat opens its mouth and their worlds fall apart.

" _GRYFFINDOR!_ "

The Gryffindor table erupts in screams, whoops, howls, and cheers. Hermione Granger seems delighted.

Aveline digs her nails into Draco's knee, more confused than she has ever been. But it is more than that.

She feels abandoned.

* * *

They hardly see Harry for a week. Every time they do, he is with that Ronald Weasley bloke. Even Neville seems to be having trouble reaching him.

The whole world loves Harry Potter. Everyone wants to meet him and be his friend. Aveline keeps a close eye on the Granger girl, but she mostly sticks to herself and reads a lot. Aveline decides she likes her much more for this.

Still, she's hardly slept and even though the food is delicious and her dorm is a beautiful emerald green, dark and cool, she hasn't slept. She keeps having nightmares about Harry dying in numerous and strange ways. She sobs with her curtains drawn until Harry wakes in his own bed across the castle and sends her comforting vibes and images.

"Today is Friday," Draco murmurs softly to her at breakfast. "We have double Potions with the Gryffindors today. We'll see him then and get this mess sorted out straight away."

Aveline winces at his use of the word _sorted_ and chews halfheartedly on some toast.

Just then, the mail comes. Both Isis and Hermes fly straight to them. Aveline watches as Hedwig arrives and soars over them to Harry.

Isis lands gracefully on Aveline's shoulder. She's a petite owl, but strong; her black feathers glisten blue in the morning light. Aveline takes the letters attached to her leg and hands her the rest of the toast as a treat. Isis coos and nips affectionately at Aveline's ear, but doesn't take off right away.

Aveline rips open her first letter.

 _Dearest Aveline,_

 _We were ever so pleased to learn you were Sorted into Slytherin! We know you, Draco, and Blaise will do great things in Slytherin House. Everything is going very well here at the Manor; Lucius is going to have a social of some sort with a few select Ministry employees, and while I'm sure it will be fabulously boring, you know I can't resist the urge to dress up._

 _Now, my dear, I fear I must offer you some advice. Harry also sent us a letter, informing us of his Sorting. As loathe as we are to admit it, Lucius and I both saw this coming. Both of Harry's parents were quite accomplished Gryffindors. Sirius himself was a Pureblood from an exclusively Slytherin family, and was Sorted into Gryffindor. Believe me when I say it was quite the scandal at the time, as I'm sure young Theo's situation is now. However, I must encourage you to try and embrace Harry's House. Your souls are bonded. He loves you more than anyone else does except our Draco, and perhaps Severus on a good day. The first few weeks of school are always quite trying and exciting. I'm sure once things settle into a more familiar routine, Harry will find plenty of time to be with both you, Draco, and your other friends. I also would like to remind you that a strong attribute of Gryffindors is loyalty; whoever is loyal to Harry is loyal to you, darling, and diverse company is always good company. Now, that's all I'll say on this most frustrating matter._

 _I trust that you've had an excellent first week at Hogwarts. To ensure this theme of excellence continues, I have enclosed several treats for your enjoyment. In return, I expect a much more cheerful letter than your first!_

 _Much love,_

 _Narcissa Malfoy_

Aveline smiles, and fingers the small bag of pastries enclosed with the letter. The Malfoys are very good at spoiling children.

She reaches for the next letter, but it's really more like a note.

 _Dear Aveline,_

 _I miss you very much, but Father is keeping me very busy. We think there's a pixie infestation in the gardens, but so far have managed to find nothing but droppings. Give my love to the rest of the Circle!_

 _Love and friendship always,_

 _Luna_

The last letter is from Sirius.

 _Oh, Aveline, honestly?_

 _Slytherin? You have forever shamed the name of Black. Well, actually you've probably pleased all of the dead bigots that I managed to piss off when I myself was Sorted. However, seeing as I am now the only Black, and I'm ashamed, I think it's safe to say you've shamed the entire Noble House._

 _That being said, congratulations, my dear. My brother was in Slytherin, and he was an alright bloke until he_ _went bonkers, became a Death Eater, and died…_

 _No, really. I'm happy for you. You are a very cunning and precocious little thing. There's no place better for you than that dreary dungeon. You're not nearly bullheaded enough to be a Gryffindor anyhow._

 _Good luck dealing with Harry, though. I'm sure that between myself and his new Housemates, he'll be uncontrollably reckless in the future._

 _Also, do Augusta and me a favor. Keep an eye on Neville for us, will you? He writes home nearly every day. I think he's having separation anxiety. No eleven year old boy should be that eager to please his grandmother, nor should he be nearly that nervous. It's a magical boarding school in a castle. What in Merlin's name could really be that panic-inducing?_

 _Also, I have never loved Theo more in my life. He's completely destroyed his father's psyche. I saw him on Knockturn the other day when I went with Lucius to purchase new canes, rip-roaring drunk and proclaiming his entire bullock sack of sperm a complete failure. Give Junior a high five for me won't you?_

 _Here's hoping the glass walls I've heard are in Slytherin House don't break and you all don't drown and die horrible, squid-infested deaths!_

 _Sirius_

Aveline knows Draco has been reading Sirius's letter over her shoulder. She rolls her eyes at his humor, but feels Draco tense.

"Blimey," he moans, "I didn't even _think_ of that. The wards are going to fail and we're all going to _drown!_ "

"Don't be ridiculous," Aveline snorts. She pockets her letters and shoulders her bag. "Come on, we'd better get to Potions."

Aveline will never admit it as long as she lives, but she is more excited for Potions than any other class. Severus is one of her favorite people in the world, and Potions is one of her favorite subjects.

She's not even slipped up about calling him Professor yet.

She and Draco slip into the classroom with five minutes to spare. Hermione Granger is already there, sitting in the first row with a quill poised to write. Honestly, _why_ isn't the girl a Ravenclaw?!

Harry practically skips into the class with Weasley at his side. Harry plops down next to Aveline and grins at both her and Draco.

"Hey, guys."

"Oh gee," Draco sneers coldly. "Look who's speaking to us, Aveline."

Aveline sniffs disdainfully, and in her head sends out, _Oh gee, it's our soul mate, back from his week-long vacation!_

"Oh come off it," Harry grumbles. "I've been-"

"Busy being fawned over, we know," Aveline snaps. Narcissa's words in her letter float through her head, but she violently shoves them away.

"Hey! Leave Harry alone!" Weasley practically shouts. "He's been busy making _friends_ , unlike you two freaks. The most I've seen you talk to is Zabini. That's a bit beneath you, isn't it Malfoy?"

"You call those idiots _friends_?" Draco's voice is perfectly level. He narrows his silver gaze in a deadly sort of way. "All they want from Harry is fifteen words about them in the Prophet."

Harry looks stricken. "Draco, you don't _actually_ believe that, do you?"

"You tell me," Draco retorts, and through the link Aveline feels him opening his mind completely to both her and Harry. Harry doesn't take the bait; he doesn't dare. Instead he closes his own mind a bit more, and Aveline feels the separation like a knife.

 _We miss you, Harry,_ she thinks quietly, angrily. Why won't he understand? He's lost the Slytherin subtlety he'd had before Hogwarts, instilled in him by both her and Draco. Instead he is loud, obnoxious, a _Gryffindor._

Severus enters the classroom and begins calling the roll. His eyes flick backwards and forwards between Harry, Aveline, and Draco. He only looks once at Weasley, whose face is as red as his hair with anger.

"Ah, Potter," Severus says coldly once he reaches his name on his roster. "Our very own _celebrity._ "

Severus is really much more observant than anyone gives him credit for. To her sheer horror, Aveline's lower lip trembles, and she bows her head over her book to hide it.

Severus still notices. Instantly, his face goes hard.

"Potter!" says Severus suddenly. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Harry raises his eyes to Severus's, silently meeting the challenge. "The Draught of Living Death, sir."

Severus glares. "Where would you look if I asked you to find a bezoar?"

"In the stomach of a goat, Professor."

"What is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

"Nothing. They're the same plant."

Severus stares at Harry a moment longer. Then he says, "Observe, class. Clearly, fame isn't everything. Perhaps you'll be more interested in Potter's competent brainpower from now on, rather than his name. I know at least a few of you already are. But it would be a shame, wouldn't it Potter, to injure your own image?"

Harry turns scarlet and shamefaced. Perhaps, Aveline realizes with a jolt, Severus knows more about the situation than he is letting on. Harry is ashamed to associate with them because they are Slytherin and not part of his beloved House? Fury fills her to the brim. A fierce roaring fills her ears. She feels her marks begin to emerge around the corners of her eyes.

"Did you know you've got ink right by the corner of your eye, Miss Enigme?"

Aveline jumps, startled out of her angry reverie. Severus raises his eyebrows at her pointedly and she wills her marks away.

She will have to deal with her stupid soul mate later.

* * *

 _ **SIRIUS BLACK QUESTIONED IN GRINGOTTS BANK BREAK-IN INVESTIGATION!**_

The headline flashes black and white on the front page of the Daily Prophet. Aveline's breath catches in her throat and Draco's hand finds hers under the table, then squeezes hard. She hears him swallow next to her.

Her eyes instantly flick up to find first Blaise's across from her, bleary from just waking up, and then her eyes find Theo's, then Neville's. Finally, her eyes find Harry's. The Great Hall has erupted in whispers, snickers, vicious gossip.

Harry turns a shade of white no living human should ever be. She can see the tears forming in his eyes from where she sits. Weasley moves to clap him comfortingly on the shoulder, but he lurches up and off the bench, practically sprinting out of the Hall.

Instantly, Aveline is out of her seat, breakfast abandoned. Her feet pound on the stone floor, and a million eyes follow her out. Draco is right on her heels. The rest of the Circle dutifully follow. Five first year students from three houses run after the Boy Who Lived. Not his new, largely fake, friends.

Aveline can't help but feel some satisfaction under all the concern.

They chase Harry to the forbidden third floor corridor; there, they are not likely to be disturbed. He draws his wand and blasts the door to an empty classroom out of his way. It slams against the stone walls with a bang. Draco slams it again behind them all. Neville bends over double, panting loudly.

"W-we're here, H-Harry!" Neville says reassuringly, and promptly collapses on his bottom to the floor.

Harry flicks a glance at him, then proceeds to slide onto the large staff desk at the head of the room. He folds his legs under him and stares blankly at a wall, his jaw flexing.

Ah. There is the old Slytherin subtlety Aveline had feared gone for good.

"What's going on, mate?" Theo asks.

"You sure know how to give a bloke a work out, Potter. My bacon hasn't even digested yet," Blaise complains, but manages to give Harry the clap on the back Weasley had been attempting.

"I don't understand!" Harry explodes. "I don't understand at all! Right before we came to Hogwarts, Sirius got something out of not only my vault, not only his, but also out of the one that got robbed! He took the only thing in there- _legally._ Or, I thought it was legal! The robbery wasn't even detected until after we'd already left! He said it was Hogwarts business, something Dumbledore had asked him for, not to worry about it. If we were already gone, why is he being questioned? What if they just throw him right back in Azkaban? What if they just… they just… _UGH!_ "

With that violent sort of grunt, every window in the dusty classroom explodes. Crisp autumn air flows in, giving Aveline goose bumps.

"What if Dumbledore refuses to help Sirius? What if he refuses to step in when Sirius is questioned and tell them what was in the vault to begin with? It's not like Sirius knew. What if-"

Suddenly, Theo steps forward and places both hands on Harry's shoulders. "Stop, Potter. Stop it. This isn't going to help anything."

"Black has incredible lawyers," Blaise adds, hopping onto the desk to sit beside Harry. "Those people have _never_ lost a case, which is saying something considering their clients."

"I can't go back to Privet Drive," Harry says and buries his face in his hands. "I can't. I _can't._ "

Harry's shoulders start to shake in small sobs.

"Harry, that would never happen. _Ever_. My parents would take you in a heartbeat," Draco promises. Aveline feels his conviction and certainty through the link. She magnifies it with the strength of her love for Harry and sends it through the link to him.

He doesn't look up, but he stops shaking. "Yeah?"

"Yeah, of course. And if they couldn't, you _know_ my Gran would," Neville says. His breathing as almost managed to return to normal, but he's still on the floor. "Gran worships you. Actually, it would be kind of cool to have another kid around."

"Severus would help you, Harry. He's been kind of hard on you lately, but he still cares about you," Aveline says quietly. She tries to picture Harry living with them at Beathan and can't quite complete the image, but she's sure it would work somehow.

"You're not alone, Potter," Theo says quietly. He squeezes Harry's shoulders once and then lets go.

"Maybe if you'd get your head out of all those Gryffindor arses, you'd know," Aveline can't help but grumble.

"Aveline!" Draco chastises.

"It's true," she persists.

Harry shakes his head and raises it. "No, she's right Draco. I'm sorry, Aveline. I'm sorry about all of it. Ron is a great friend, and I think Seamus is alright, but the rest of them are a bit… perhaps it's better to keep my distance for awhile. Until they prove they're as great as all of you."

They leave the shattered glass on the floor. After all, it's not as though anyone will be in this corridor. It's very forbidden.

Aveline can't help but wonder why.

In any case, a forbidden corridor is a perfectly private place for the Circle to continue to meet once a week. No more separation, _ever again._


	6. Chapter 6

Millicent Bulstrode is more than a bit of a slob.

Pansy Parkinson squeals all of her words in a most pig-like fashion.

Daphne Greengrass is entirely vapid.

All in all, Aveline has no love whatsoever for her roommates.

They whisper about her when they think she is not listening; they try to figure out her parentage, they try to discern what social circles she belongs to, they try to goad a curse or a jinx from her.

Aveline simply closes her curtains and continues to read. In the comfort of her beautiful green bed, she thinks of all the Dark things she wants to do to them.

* * *

"Flying lessons are today!" Blaise crows one morning after skimming the announcement board in the Common Room. Then his face falls. "Only… we have them with the Gryffindors."

Joy shoots through the link and straight through Aveline's chest. She glances over to see Draco grinning broadly. He revels in any chance to see Harry, almost more than she does; she still hasn't forgiven Harry entirely for his stint with the lesser students in his House.

"UP!" Aveline shouts.

Her broom soars off the ground, and twists upright very forcefully, straight into her hand. It doesn't even tremble as some of the other brooms do.

She smiles. She could get used to this feeling of power.

Draco's also jerks instantly upright, along with Harry's. Aveline is pleased to see Pansy Parkinson's flopping about like a fish; neither Neville's nor that Granger girl's has moved at all.

Ronald Weasley's, it seems, doesn't take much coaxing either. She can't decide if she's glad that Harry's one true friend outside of the Circle is competent, or irritated that he doesn't fail like she expected him to. It does, however, miss his hand and smack him in the face. She smirks at him, and he snarls back.

Madam Hooch proceeds to show them how to mount their brooms, and the proper procedure for kicking off. Aveline, of course, has been riding with Draco for ages and already knows this. It feels strange to be on a broom alone, without his comforting heat seated in front of or behind her.

Suddenly, Neville gives a great shriek and kicks off too early, rising higher and higher in the air. She sees instantly that he doesn't have control of the broom. It soars ten, twenty, thirty meters in the air.

"Help! _HELP_!" Neville screeches.

Too late. His broom slams him into the side of the castle. His grip is gone, and he's falling, falling, falling…

Aveline hears the snap of bone when he smacks into the ground.

"Oh, dear," Madam Hooch mutters, rushing over to investigate the damage. The remaining Gryffindors and Slytherins watch Neville's broom rise higher and float away toward the Forbidden Forest.

"A broken wrist, we'll have to take you to the Hospital Wing, come on boy." Madam Hooch keeps muttering until she abruptly turns and threatens them all with expulsion if they so much as step foot toward the brooms while she's away.

Naturally, Goyle decides to break away from the loose assembly of students and approach the spot where Neville fell. "Look, Schlongbottom dropped this!"

The round, bright red orb glints in the sunlight. Aveline's eyes narrow. "Give it to me, Goyle."

"I don't think I will," he says obstinately. "Crabbe, do ya know what this thing is?"

Crabbe predictably shakes his head.

"Goyle, stop being an obtuse moron," Draco demands, that Lucius-like authority seeping into his tone. "Hand Aveline the Remembrall."

Aveline knows he would never in a million years admit it, but Harry had written to Augusta about Neville's problem with forgetting things, and had assured Neville would be given something to help. Harry's really too sweet, but the Remembrall _has_ been helping Neville immensely…

"Shut it, Malfoy!" Goyle snarls. "I'm not handing it to _anyone_. Matter of fact…"

Goyle swings one meaty leg over his broom and kicks off shakily into the air.

"Oh no you don't!" Aveline hears Harry snarl. Suddenly Harry has kicked off and risen high into the air as well.

"Harry! _Harry Potter!_ " Hermione Granger shrieks. "Come down this instant! You'll be _expelled!_ "

"Yeah Harry, I don't think this is such a good idea…" Weasley calls, biting his lip.

Aveline and Draco stand back and glare against the sun, watching with interest. Harry is a better flier than even Draco, though not by much. This should be interesting.

Goyle rises in a trembling manner a few feet higher than Harry. The old broom seems to sag under his weight.

"Give it back, Goyle, or I'll knock you off that broom! That is, if it doesn't snap from the sheer weight of you, first."

Goyle shrugs and glowers. "Like to see you try."

Harry narrows his eyes and nearly spears Goyle with the end of his broom as he goes hurtling toward him. Weasley calls out an admiring whoop, and several of the girls around Aveline scream. She rolls her eyes.

At least Granger isn't one of _them_.

Goyle moves out of the way just in time, fumbling with the Remembrall. "Fine! You want it so badly? _Catch it!_ "

And the glass ball goes sailing through the air.

Harry falls into a steep dive- steeper than any Aveline has seen him attempt before, which is saying something considering he lives with Sirius Black.

She holds her breath until he pulls his broom horizontal only a foot from the ground. He dismounts smoothly.

" _HARRY POTTER! I HAVE NEVER- WHAT WERE YOU- I CANNOT BELIEVE-"_

Professor McGonagall, it seems, is certainly not a woman to cross, Head of Gryffindor House or not.

" _Seeker_?" Draco gasps, slamming the door on the third floor corridor behind him. "No _way!_ That's the position _I_ wanted, but for the Slytherin team obviously. I can't believe they're letting a _first year_ -"

"The only first year in over a century, actually-" Harry cuts in, beaming proudly.

"I mean, _honestly_! Not even my father's money could get me a position like that, at least not this year-"

"If you ask Lucius to buy your way onto that team, Draco Malfoy, I will-" Aveline hisses.

"I wouldn't! I'm just saying! Bloody hell, mate."

"Think they're going to let us get in a word?" Blaise mutters, nudging Theo.

Theo shrugs. "Probably not anytime soon. You know how these three can get."

Neville sighs. "I'm just grateful he managed to get my Remembrall back. Gran would have killed me if something had happened to it."

"You know Neville," Aveline throws in conversationally, abandoning the one with her boys, "between your grandmother and Luna, your life seems to be in constant peril."

"It is," he nods sadly. "It really is."

* * *

Aveline opens the door to her dorm late in the evening. She'd spent forever in the Common Room with Draco, studying for the next big Charms test. They have that class with a bunch of Raveclaws. There is absolutely no hope for a curve.

Her door is right off the staircase; it can become annoying when people go up and down while she's trying to sleep, but otherwise it's dead convenient. On the other side of the door are her three roommates. They're all crowded around it, Daphne in the back appearing bored and haughty, the other two girls in the front with manic gleams in their eyes.

"We don't think you're quite worthy of sharing a dorm with us, Aveline," Pansy sneers. Then she giggles, and the sound is like nails on a chalkboard.

"As a matter of fact," Millicent snickers, "we think you should spend the night in the Hospital Wing instead!"

And before Aveline can do _anything_ , all three girls reach through the doorway and shove her. Aveline's books go flying before she even reaches the ground, and then she is rolling backwards, head over heels, down the stone steps. She can't keep from crying out when something deep inside her chest snaps.

The pain sizzles through her torso. She gives the three girls above her the satisfaction of hearing her sob once because she simply can't contain it.

"Don't worry!" Millicent calls, "We didn't hear a thing!"

"Matter of fact, we were asleep long before you came up!" Pansy adds.

"You must have fallen in the dark," Daphne says blandly.

The door at the top of the stairs closes quietly.

Draco is just changing into a pair of flannel pants when the burning pain echoes in his own ribs. He hisses and lunges for the door, throwing it open and clattering down the steps. Aveline lies motionless on the floor, and if his own ribs weren't blinding him with stinging aches, he'd be terrified she was dead.

"Aveline!"

"Draco! Draco… they pushed me…" Aveline pants hard, trying to breathe past the pain.

"I'll kill them," he vows. "But first, I'm going to go get Severus."

"Would you like to explain to me what _exactly_ happened, Aveline?"

Aveline stays silent, and stares at a particularly interesting crack in the stone on the opposite wall. She can feel the potions Madam Pomfrey gave her begin to mend the break in her rib. It feels like something is squirming underneath her skin.

"We can't take disciplinary action until you do, Aveline," Dumbledore continues. She still doesn't understand why Severus insisted on waking the man. It is well after midnight.

"I know how reluctant Slytherins can be to turn to authority, Aveline," Dumbledore goes on. "However, the smart choice would be to utilize the help of myself and Severus."

Aveline is silent.

"Oh honestly, Aveline," Severus snaps, clearly exasperated. "I'm going to punish your silly little roommates regardless so you might as well-"

It is only when Harry whispers, "Aveline, _please_?" that she relents. He had been wakened by the strange burning sensation in his own chest, and had immediately dashed for the Hospital Wing, Filch be damned.

"They haven't been very forthcoming ever since being assigned as my roommates," Aveline says hurriedly. "They fancy themselves bullies, I suppose, though I never paid attention to them before. Tonight they were waiting. They said I wasn't worthy to be their roommate. Then they pushed me down the stairs."

Harry breathes a sigh of relief when Dumbledore's eyes flare alarmingly. He bends his forehead to rest against the side of Aveline's bed.

Draco huffs out a furious breath. "My father _will_ hear about this!"

"Good," Aveline snaps, then sucks air in through her teeth when her rib aches. The potion isn't quite through yet.

"I am going to owl the parents of these girls immediately," Dumbledore says in a rumbling fashion. "Then I am going to have a strong brandy and get some rest. I suggest you all leave Aveline to do the same."

The old man leaves with a flourish of his wand and bright purple sleeping robes.

"You heard the man, get me some brandy and leave me to rest!" Aveline snickers.

Severus rolls his eyes. "Very funny, Aveline. Do try not to behave like the other dunderheads in this school. I'd hate to see you absorb some of their lesser qualities. Would you like me to stay here with you tonight?"

Aveline seriously considers this, then shakes her head. "No, thank you Severus."

Severus nods seriously. "I will deal with your three roommates in the morning, then, and I will have your room reassigned promptly."

"What?! No!"

"And why in Merlin's name not?"

"Because," Aveline hisses, glaring at her guardian, "if I switch rooms, they win!"

"I will _not_ allow you to board with them a moment longer. Not after this."

"Neither will _I,"_ Draco mutters. Harry nods avidly.

Aveline bites her lip. "Fine. Then switch _them_ out, as part of their punishments! Put them with some truly horrid freaks! Then put nice girls in my room."

Severus studies her a moment, then nods. Finally, he beckons to both Harry and Draco. "Come, boys. I do believe Poppy is about to administer the Sleeping Draught. Aveline needs her rest."

Indeed, Madam Pomfrey soon approaches and hands her a vial of Sleeping Draught. She will be entirely out for the rest of the night and perhaps most of the morning.

Draco's silver eyes and Harry's scar are the last things she sees.

"Where's Aveline, mate?" Blaise asks, smearing a truly disturbing amount of jam on his toast.

"She was attacked by her roommates last night," Draco snarls, glaring at the three girls at the end of the table. They cackle in the morning sunlight, clearly thrilled their little plan had gone off without a hitch.

Draco glares at them menacingly. He cannot wait until Severus gets his hands on them. He already sent a letter home to his father last night, before Severus accompanied him back to the dungeons.

Blaise's eyes widen, and then he turns to glare at the girls too. "Are you bloody serious? I'll kill them myself!"

"Don't worry, they won't be her roommates much longer. But Blaise…"

Blaise looks up, meeting Draco's eyes. He has the gaze of a snake. Blaise changes his to match. They are not measly first years in this moment. They are as cunning as Salazar himself.

"It's time," Draco says.

Blaise smiles, and it is wicked.

When Aveline returns from classes later that day, she approaches her dorm slowly. She knows the girls have been moved already; Severus made them pack their things up and lug them to different rooms by hand. She doesn't know who he picked to be her new roommates, however.

A cream colored trunk sits at the end of what used to be Millicent's bed. The sheets and blankets are different patterns of green and silver, proof the house elves had already swept away any lingering traces of the other girls.

A simple black trunk embellished with the initials _TD_ sits on the other bed, haphazardly spilled open.

Aveline notices that her new roommates, whoever they are, chose both beds next to hers, rather than taking one farther away from the others. She wonders if Severus has paid them off with extra Potions credit to be friendly.

"Can you _believe_ the nerve of Parkinson? I mean, _honestly_ -"

" _Sophie, be quiet._ "  
"Why? It's not like the entire dungeon doesn't know what's happened by now."

"Yes, but there's no need to-"

"Our poor new roommate! I always thought she looked rather sweet, myself, and if _that_ isn't a rarity around here-"

"Would you please shut up?"

"It's just so strange that _Greengrass_ would get involved, she always seemed above those things-"

The two voices travel up the staircase and into the room clearly. Somehow, Aveline can't place them.

She sits down on the edge of her own bed to wait.

The two girls round the corner, arm in arm. One is quite tall, with straight brown hair and unremarkable hazel eyes. Other than her stunning brown-olive complexion, she's rather plain. The other is shorter than Aveline herself, has hair the color of honey, and pale skin.

They freeze when they see her. Aveline doesn't move a muscle. And then the blonde girl breaks out in a wide grin. "Oh hi! You must be Aveline! I'm Sophie. Sophie Roper. I'm so glad we're going to be rooming together from here on out."

Before Aveline can take an even breath, Sophie Roper is crushing her recently healed rib by giving her the most obnoxious hug ever experienced in Britain.

The tall girl rolls her eyes from the doorway. "Honestly, Soph, what a way to introduce yourself." She proceeds to pry Sophie off of her and sticks out a hand for Aveline to shake. "Hi. I'm Tracey Davis."

"Hello," Aveline says warily. She clears her throat and tries to sound warmer. "I see you've both already moved your things."

Tracey shrugs and moves to fold things back into her trunk. Aveline sneaks a peak and deduces most of her clothing consists of old Quidditch jerseys.

Sophie smiles and zaps her trunk with her wand. Instantly, an assortment of girly clothing comes flying out to circle around her bed like some sort of invisible carousel rack. "Yeah, we did, only the house elves did ours, so we weren't late for lunch. It sure was funny though, stopping by here to switch out our books, and watching them all struggle."

Aveline studies Sophie's smirk as she peruses her frilly shirts and decides she understands why the seemingly sweet girl was placed in Slytherin.

"Believe me," Tracey snorts, "their punishment isn't nearly over yet. They have an hour-long detention immediately after classes end every day from now until winter holiday."

Sophie picks a white top and a lacey, bright pink skirt from her repertoire. Then she waves her wand again and her clothes fold themselves neatly back into her trunk. She strips out of her robes and uniform right there in front of Aveline and Tracey both, completely unabashed.

Aveline looks away immediately- _is that really what a training bra looks like?-_ but Tracey seems unaffected. It appears living with a gaggle of males her whole life has hindered Aveline's ability to relate to other girls.

"Does this look swotty?" Sophie asks worriedly, twirling around in her new outfit.

"It looks anything but," Aveline says kindly. It really is a nice outfit. Narcissa will be pleased to hear her new roommate has more fashion sense than Parkinson.

Tracey snorts. "Please. Sophie doesn't have the ability to look like a swot. She hadn't been here a full week before she asked a ruddy _fifth year_ how to charm her skirt shorter."

"What of it?" Sophie sniffs. "These damn things are always restricting my knees and tripping me up."

Aveline glances at both girls again, and then down at her bedspread. Davis is certainly not a Pureblood name, but by the way Tracey carries herself with a graceful air that doesn't quite make it all the way to aristocratic, she's probably a half-blood. Not bad.

Roper, however, is a name she vaguely knows. Sophie is most definitely a Pureblood. Her expensive clothes and haughty tone are dead giveaways.

Her new roommates, while vastly different from herself, will certainly do.

Tracey is about to retort again, when a commotion arises from the Common Room below; another great advantage to this room is being able to hear everything that goes on.

"Sounds like the girls are back from their detentions," Sophie grins viciously. She grabs Aveline's hand and yanks her toward the steps. Tracey groans but follows them.

In the Common Room, Aveline's former roommates have just stumbled through the passage, and are already facing the stares and whispers of others.

Aveline watches as Draco and Blaise stand. She holds onto Sophie's hand tighter. To her surprise, the girl squeezes her fingers right back and offers her a comforting half-smile. Tracey's tall presence behind them feels protective and strong. Oh yeah. Severus definitely bribed them.

"Well, look who it is," Draco crows. Aveline notices Goyle and Crabbe shift menacingly in his direction. Pansy and Millicent are a part of their crew. Daphne glances at a group of third years for reassurance.

"Sod off, Malfoy. Your precious girlfriend is just fine," Pansy sneers.

"Really? Is that why I had to fetch Professor Snape at midnight last night? How displeased was he, by the way? I know for a fact he hates losing his beauty sleep." Draco's smirk is dangerous.

"Scrubbing cauldrons, are we?" Blaise snickers, noticing their pruny fingers. The girls flush, embarrassed. Aveline flicks her eyes back to Goyle and watches him grind his teeth.

Blaise's snickers are mimicked throughout the entire common room, and Millicent casts panicked eyes toward Crabbe. They are losing ground quickly, but the situation could be turned without warning. Aveline hopes Draco knows what he's doing.

"At least we got moved away from the little freak," Daphne finally hisses in a desperate attempt to save face. "That's a win in my book."

Draco's smirk is gone. Blaise's easy stance is gone. Together, they present a united front; two child-warriors standing up to ancient evil.  
"I won't tolerate you touching her again," Draco warns. "I mean it. Did it ever occur to you lot that Aveline didn't associate you because she is _superior_ to you? To all of you?"

"Honestly," Blaise throws in, his smooth voice sharp as daggers. "Why did you think we all avoid you? You're all _beneath_ us."

Pansy growls like a wounded cat, and Millicent hisses. Daphne cries out, clearly affronted. But when they look at Crabbe and Goyle next, they are both shuffling their feet.

The whole Common Room seems to hold its breath, and then Pansy stomps off, shouting " _Whatever!"_

The enchantment is broken, and with it something has irrevocably shifted. Millicent storms off after Pansy. Daphne bows her head and shuffles away. Crabbe and Goyle sit down.

All of the power has suddenly shifted to Draco and Blaise. The first year hierarchy they'd anticipated has come tumbling down around them, and they have arisen the victors.

Draco transfers power to Aveline when he arrogantly raises his chin at her and says, "Alright there, Aveline?"

"Perfect, Draco," she nods, straightening. She feels Sophie do the same next to her.

Blaise notices. Of course he does. He studies both Sophie and Tracey with cool curiosity. "And your new roommates?"

This is it. The moment of truth. One word from her, and the two girls with her would pack once more, no interference from Severus necessary. Aveline is at the top of the first year food chain now.

She gazes at her counterparts of power in the older years, all observing her carefully. They are sizing her up. After all, she will take their places in the grand Slytherin scheme when everyone advances a year at the end of the term.

Aveline looks at the other girls her age, all looking at her hungrily and hopefully. They want a taste of what she has. She can offer them protection now. She is a desirable _ally_ now.

She hadn't been ten minutes ago. Sophie had still hugged her. Tracey had still shook her hand.

Aveline smiles sweetly back at Blaise and Draco. "They'll do quite nicely."

Just like that, she has asserted her dominance over them and yet proclaimed them her statutory equals.

"We'll meet you boys back down here in ten minutes," Sophie says, smirking at Blaise. His eyebrows raise in surprise, and then approval. "Tracey and Aveline still need to change."

Sophie lends Aveline a pale blue shirt, and Tracey wears one of her Quidditch jerseys- the Chudley Cannons, Aveline's favorite team.

The five of them walk into the Great Hall with their shoulders thrown back and heads high.

* * *

"Do you think Goyle is going to show?" Harry asks Ron unconcernedly.

"I doubt it, honestly," Ron says and shrugs.

Sneaking out of the dorm had been terribly easy. Dean sleeps lightly, but at the other end of the room, and Seamus can't be woken short of an explosion.

"I can't believe he challenged me to a wizard's duel this morning," Harry snorts, rolling his eyes. Lucius had taught him all about wizard's duels. Harry hardly considers Goyle a worthy opponent for one. The most damage he could do would be a Tickling Charm. Still, it was a fantastic feeling, having Ron volunteer to be his second.

"I know right?" Ron snickers. "Still, we have to at least show. Just in case he does, you know?"

"Of course," Harry nods.

"You most certainly will _not_ show up _anywhere_!"

Ron starts and swears loudly. Harry blinks and reaches quickly for his wand. Hermione Granger stands in front of them, wearing an atrociously bright pink bathrobe. He is right bloody glad Aveline never wears anything like that.

"Oh, bloody hell! It's _you_! Go back to bed, you psychotic bint," Ron grumbles, moving past her towards the portrait.

"I most certainly will not. You're both going to get caught, and _then_ you're going to get points taken away from our House. If you _think_ I'm about to lose the House Cup to a bunch of _Slytherins_ -"

"Hey!" Harry protests, "I have good friends in Slytherin!"

" _Still_ ," she hisses, following them into the corridor. The portrait swings shut behind her. "You're going to lose all the points I got today for knowing about Switching Spells! Honestly, you two are such ignorant, inconsiderate… You know, on further reflection, I cannot _wait_ until you both find yourselves on a train ride home tomorrow! I am going back to bed."

Hermione whirls around only to let out a terrified shriek. The Fat Lady has left her portrait and Hermione is now locked out.

"I changed my mind," she announces, chasing after them through the dark corridor. "I'm coming with you two."

"You are _not_ ," Ron growls.

Harry sighs. The situation is clearly lost. "Just let her tag along, Ron. She can be _your_ second."

Ron snorts, but lets it go.

They get to the end of the hall when they hear sniffling.

"Oh shite," Ron whimpers. "Mrs. Norris?"

"I don't think so," Hermione whispers.

"It's not Mrs. Norris!" a voice calls. "It's me, Neville!"

Harry suppresses a smile and creeps closer. Sure enough, Neville is curled up underneath a tapestry.

"I forgot the password to get back in. I stayed too long in the library and missed curfew. I'm a right idiot, I am. Thank Merlin you all came along to find me, now I can get back in!"

Harry grimaces and claps his friend on the back. "I hate to break it to you, mate, but the Fat Lady has left her portrait. You're going to have to come with us."

"Of course," Neville sighs.

"I swear, if you get us caught-" Ron begins, but Harry shakes his head.

"Neville's great, Ron. It'll be fine. Let's just go before we're late."

They just reach the trophy room when they hear Filch's voice. Instantly, they take off through the corridors, running through slivers of moonlight and trying desperately to stick to the shadows. They can hear Filch shouting behind them.

"Here!" Hermione hisses, and they hurtle through a passageway and end up near the Charms classroom.

"That was so… so… so close," Neville groans, bent over double.

"I- _told_ \- you _,_ " Hermione pants, glaring at both Harry and Ron. "I bet you anything Goyle set you up, Harry!"

Harry nods and grudgingly admits, "You're probably right."

Hermione seems pleased by his concession.

"We've got to get back to the Tower," Ron reminds them. "Quickly as possible."

Just then, Peeves comes around the corner.

"Oh, look! Ickle firsties out of bed. Soon you'll be out of Hogwarts you will!"

"No, Peeves, please!"

"It's for your own good you know! FIRST YEARS! FIRST YEARS OUT OF BED! IN THE CHARMS CORRIDOR!"

"Peeves, you stupid prat!" Ron roars, and then they're off again.

Harry runs in the lead, twisting through corridors and up staircases that shift. Neville falls several times.

Harry recalls Sirius's stories about being out of bed at night in Hogwarts and as hard as he tries he never can remember Sirius mentioning it was quite this terrifying.

They reach the end of the corridor, and all of them slam into the door.

"It's locked," Harry groans.

"Oh that's it! We're done for! This is the end, Harry, I tell you…" Neville moans.

"Oh, honestly. _Move!_ " Hermione snarls. She thrusts her wand at the door. " _Alohamora!"_

The lock springs and they tumble inside.

They slam the door behind them, and press against it, listening as a very confused Filch mumbles incoherently to his cat and wanders away.

Harry turns around when Neville tugs on his sleeve. "What is it, Neville?"

Then Harry looks up, straight into the eyes of a three-headed beast.

He does not stick around to die.

Turns out, there is a very good reason the third floor corridor is forbidden.

***

"A three-headed _dog_?"

"That was standing on a trapdoor, according to Hermione Granger," Harry nods.

"In _this_ corridor? What the ruddy hell are we doing in this classroom, then?" Blaise tumbles off the desk and bolts for the door.

"The dog door is _locked_ , Blaise," Harry calls, rolling his eyes. "The dog can't get out!"

"Right, but a simple _Alohamora_ could get Granger in," Aveline mutters. "Not exactly comforting, Harry."

"It was right terrifying! We almost died, I swear," Neville groans. Theo reaches out and silently pats him on the back.

"Look, this is all well and good, but… What is that thing hiding?" Draco asks seriously.

Harry shrugs, and gets this strange look in his eyes that reminds Aveline of Sirius. "Guess we'll just have to find out."

* * *

 _Dear Aveline,_

 _Happy Halloween, darling! I know it's your favorite holiday, so I sent some extra festive treats with today's post. I wish I had time to compose a longer letter, but Lucius insists on going to this ridiculous costume party at Sirius's tonight. Why my cousin is so immature I will never understand, but it's still going to take me all day to prepare, seeing as I wasn't informed of this party's existence and my husband's subsequent RSVP until this morning. Honestly! Men!_

 _All my love,_

 _Narcissa Malfoy_

 _Dear Aveline,_

 _Daddy is dropping me off at the Weasley residence tonight while he attends some party Sirius is throwing. It's apparently for adults only. I've met Molly several times, and she's very lovely. She says I can play with her daughter, Ginny, who is my age. We'll be attending Hogwarts together next year. I hope you get to meet her someday and I hope you like her too. She's really quite something, I've heard. Although, Ginny doesn't believe in Crumple-Horned Snorkacks! Can you imagine that?! Don't worry, I'll owl you again tomorrow and tell you all about how tonight goes. I've never stayed at the Weasley's place for more than a few minutes at a time._

 _Love,_

 _Luna_

 _My most lovely young Aveline Enigme,_

 _I am sure you are enjoying a nice glass of pumpkin juice right about now. Might I take this opportunity to assure you of your everlasting beauty? I know it's very bold of me, but I just can't resist, knowing how pretty you look in comparison to that pug-faced Parkinson. Saw her father the other day. He's as equally pug-faced, if you can imagine._

 _I assure you, he is not on the guest list for tonight._

 _Don't worry, I'll take loads of incriminating pictures that can later be used as blackmail and send all the ones that do not contain mass nudity straight to you, Draco, and Harry for your enjoyment._

 _Now, Aveline, I know Halloween is your favorite holiday, and I endorse that one thousand percent. On what other occasion can you splatter fake blood everywhere and it be perfectly acceptable? However, I must caution you not to be too overzealous today, my dear. Please remember that my dear godson lost his parents on Halloween night ten years ago. Usually, we go to Godric's Hollow every Halloween and pay our respects. Alas, he is holed up in that ruddy castle, getting an education and what all. Do try to comfort him if he expresses melancholy, won't you? As much fun as I try to instill in him, he does love his bouts of melancholy._

 _Here's hoping you put a jar of spiders in someone's bed just to embrace the spirit of the day!_

 _Sirius_

"Honestly, it's no bloody wonder she hasn't got any friends! She's a _nightmare_!"

Harry watches as Hermione goes rushing past them, tears streaming down her face. He remembers the Dursleys and all of their slurs. He remembers what it was to be friendless, with only Aveline and Draco inside his head. Most days he was convinced he'd made them up.

He remembers meeting Hermione on the train, and thinking he rather liked her even when all the others didn't. He remembers her offers to study in the library after he proved his brains in Severus's class. He remembers the way she ran behind him, fast and silent and irritated, away from Filch and Peeves. He remembers the way her fingers had wrapped around his wrist when they saw the three-headed dog. He remembers her slight smirk when McGonagall had mentioned how tired he looked the next day.

"I think she heard you," Harry says quietly.

Aveline is just scooping up another helping of pudding, laughing at something asinine Blaise had said when Professor Quirrell comes bursting through the giant wooden doors of the Great Hall.

" _TROLL! TROLL! IN THE DUNGEONS! TROLL! TROLL!"_

Everyone watches as he screams his way straight to Dumbledore, slumping out of breath against the Head Table. "Troll! In! The! Dungeons!… Thought you ought to know."

Then the professor falls to his side in a dead faint. There is one final moment of silence, and then chaos. Boys and girls of all ages begin to scream, including Draco next to her.

Aveline sits perfectly still, her eyes immediately seeking Severus, but he is already moving toward the doors Quirrell has just burst through. She looks instead at Professor McGonagall, and she seems much more composed.

Aveline takes a deep, steadying breath and sends peaceful vibes through the link. Harry receives them and sends back confusion. Draco grabs her hand underneath the table and digs his nails into her palm.

It takes several small, bright purple explosions from the tip of Dumbledore's wand to get everyone's attention once more.

"Prefects," Dumbledore ordered, "escort your houses back to the dormitories _immediately._ "

"What the hell?" Blaise yelps. "The troll is in the dungeons. The Slytherin dorms are _in the dungeons_. What kind of sense does that even make?"

"It doesn't," Draco growls and tugs Aveline up fiercely by the hand. "We're not going down there."

"Well then where are we going?"

Draco thinks a moment, the bond completely open in the panic. Aveline sees a million images flit across her mind's eye- that of Harry and Weasley, the ideas in Draco's mind of places to hide.

"We'll go to the Astronomy Tower," Draco decides firmly. "There's no way the troll could fit up those stairs."

When the rest of the Slytherins file down the stairs in terror, Aveline, Draco, and Blaise go their own way.

Aveline only feels a little bit bad about leaving Sophie and Tracey behind.

Hermione Granger has firmly decided that this has easily been the worst day of her short existence.

She had never had friends before. Her entire life had been made up of teasing, name calling, misunderstandings, and knowledge. Her parents were lovely people, but even they didn't seem to always understand her.

She had thought that coming to Hogwarts meant she would find a place where people were like _her_. She wishes desperately that she'd been Sorted into Ravenclaw.

Running with Neville, Harry, and Ron through the dark corridors of the castle had been the most fun she'd ever had. She'd felt something akin to _camaraderie._ She craves that feeling, she dreams about that feeling.

Of course, Ronald had ruined it.

And now she is being attacked by a troll of all things.

Hermione cowers against the wall, squinting up at the troll through a wince and waiting for the inevitable death blow. Shards of porcelain sink come flying at her. She hopes it's quick.

" _OI, PEA BRAIN!_ "

Never has Ronald Weasley sounded so charming.

Hermione watches as Harry and Ron try to confuse the giant troll. It really is ugly, all gray skin and bumpy warts. The panic flows through her veins, but the bad kind. Not the kind she'd experienced while running from Filch. This is the kind of fear someone experiences before they die.

The realization shocks her to her core.

She cannot breathe. She cannot-

" _Move! Hermione, move!"_

Harry is so scared, scared for _her,_ but she can't. She just can't. She is going to _die_.

Harry stops tugging at her, and seeing the troll go for Ron, leaves her. She stands there, unable to do anything but watch as he takes a running leap and jumps onto the back of the troll.

Hermione is certain she blacks out from the terror. The next thing she's conscious of, the entire bathroom is destroyed, the troll is unconscious on the floor, and Harry is sneering while wiping troll snot off of his wand.

"Oh my God," Hermione breathes, swaying on her feet.

Ron looks at her, face screwed up in exertion and something similar to concern. "I think she's gonna faint."

"No," she shakes her head. "No, I'm-"

A commotion sounds in the hallway. Teachers burst into the bathroom, wands drawn and robes billowing. Snape takes the scene in with wide eyes. Hermione frowns, observing the way he immediately scans every inch of Harry and then relaxes.

Professor McGonagall is beyond furious. She has gone cold with her rage.

Friends or not, Harry and Ron just saved her life. She doesn't care if she's expelled. She doesn't care if they hate her for the rest of their lives. She doesn't care if she gets attacked by ten more trolls on the train ride home tomorrow.

Hermione Granger will take the blame.

"You fought a mountain troll."

"Yes."

"You could have _died_."

"Yes."

"Which means Aveline and Draco would have died by _default_ as well."

"Probably."

"They were in utter hysterics, you realize. Blaise had to half carry both of them to my office."

"I know."

Sirius sighs and slams his brandy glass on Severus's desk. "You don't feel sorry at all, do you?"

"Not really. If I hadn't done what I did, Hermione would be dead."

"Yeah, and if you had died we'd all be a handy trio of soul mates in the _afterlife_ ," Draco snarls.

Aveline stays quiet.

"Harry, we must ask you never to unnecessarily risk your life again," Lucius says seriously. He strokes the silver snake head on the top of his cane broodingly.

"I can't do that."

Narcissa scowls. "Like hell you can't."

"I can't. If someone needs my help, I'm going to help them."

Severus glances at Aveline. "Well, Aveline. What's your take on all of this?"

Aveline strokes Jinx one last time before looking up. She meets the eyes of all the adults in the room, then Draco's.

It seems they're all reserving complete judgment until she passes hers. How odd.

"I think Hermione Granger would be an incredible asset to Harry," Aveline says quietly. "I'm glad he saved her, though I wish he would stay in more direct contact with Draco and I through the link so that we can at least be a part of his decision-making process."

"Done," Harry agrees immediately.

His smile is worth all of the astounded, furious gapes on the adult faces.

Draco calculates the risks and rewards in his mind, then gives them both a firm nod.

"But if she doesn't watch herself and observe the proper boundaries," Aveline adds viciously, "Well, then…"

And with a wave of her hand, the fire jumps five feet out of the fireplace in Severus's office.

Harry gulps and nods. "Understood."

* * *

 _ **NO FURTHER LEADS ON GRINGOTTS CASE.**_

* * *

 **A/N: If you're enjoying the story, feel free to share it with your friends or on your blogs. Reviews make my day!**


	7. Chapter 7

"I think I'm going to vomit," Harry moans.

Draco pats him on his shoulder. "Nonsense. You'll do fine. I mean, I hope Gryffindor loses-"

" _Draco_ ," Aveline admonishes.

"And I really hope Slytherin wins. But yeah. You'll play just fine."

"Don't listen to him, Harry," Aveline rolls her eyes. "You'll catch the Snitch, no problem."

"To be completely honest," Blaise mutters once they're in the stands, "I'm not sure who to cheer for."

Aveline contemplates this. Then she shrugs. "Let's just move to the part of the stands where Gryffindors and Slytherins meet. Then we'll cheer whenever _anyone_ scores, and that way we'll remain loyal to both sides."

Draco grins at her. "You're so sneaky. I love it."

Aveline doesn't notice Severus listening in, nor the odd look he gives her. Wordlessly, he accepts a piece of popcorn from Sirius. His office Floo is much too busy for his liking these days.

"Oh Merlin," Aveline gasps, feeling the jolt of fear sizzling through the link.

Draco also leaps to his feet, spilling Blaise's nachos all over him.

"What the hell is the matter with you two?!"

"Look!" Draco points.

Harry's broom has completely diverged from his control. Harry is barely holding on, as a matter of fact.

Aveline's eyes flicker from Harry to Severus. Both he and Sirius are muttering low under their breaths, lips moving fast and staring avidly at Harry.

"Severus and Sirius are trying to perform counter curses," Aveline mutters to Draco.

Unfortunately, she is not the only one to notice this. Hermione Granger has taken the gamekeeper's binoculars. Her mouth has opened in indignation. Weasley looks as terrified as Aveline feels.

"I'll intercept Granger," Blaise takes off running, shoving through the crowd roughly.

"Who's putting the curse on Harry?" Draco demands.

Aveline scans the crowd avidly, but it's impossible to tell. _Everyone_ has their eyes fixed on Harry at this point.

Subtly, Aveline reaches out to take Draco's hand in hers. Then they both stare at Harry and open the link fully, allowing tiny bursts of power to slip through to him.

It's no use. Harry begins rolling in midair, and several people scream. Aveline drops Draco's hand and digs her nails into his thigh. Most people have leapt to their feet, but Aveline sits perfectly still.

Across the stands, she sees Neville sobbing uncontrollably, buried against Theo's shoulder.

Her heart pounds in time with Draco's. His pounds in time with Harry's. She feels the same swooping lurches in her stomach. If Harry falls, all her organs will smash right along with his. She'll feel every bit of it.

She loves him. He's meant to be with her and Draco for the rest of their lives. He can't die, not now, not falling off a stupid broom!

"Oh, look, it's the witless wonders!" Draco groans, and claps his hand against his forehead. Indeed, the Weasley twins have started circling beneath Harry, obviously hoping to catch him.

Aveline's arm muscles start to burn right along with Harry's. He's dangling only by a few fingertips… it won't be much longer…

A sudden burst of relief travels through the link, unadulterated and strong. Aveline gasps and looks up in time to watch Harry dive and land hard on the ground. She looks at Severus, but there seems to be some kind of commotion amongst the teachers.

Then Harry spits the Snitch out of his mouth.

"Unbelievable," Draco groans.

* * *

"Listen, Aveline, if you could just _ask_ -"

"No way! Forget it, Harry! _If_ Severus was anywhere near that three-headed dog, then that's his own business."

"Did it ever occur to you that he might be up to something?"

"Just what are you implying?"

"He's been acting very strangely this year, don't you think?"

"No. No, I don't think that."

"He was _limping_ , Aveline. Ron and I saw it! That dog could have killed him."

"Just like it could kill you."

"Ron saw Severus limping too, and-"

Aveline narrows her eyes. The light in the library is dim. It makes Harry's dark hair stand out in stark contrast to his pale skin. " _And_?"

Harry swallows thickly. "And nothing. It's just that Ron thinks-"

He cuts himself off again. Aveline's eyes narrow to slits. She feels her Elements and her Darkness rise within her. She will tear Ron Weasley to pieces before she allows him to propose action against Severus.

"Ronald thinks? That's surprising."

Harry huffs in exasperation. "It's just that he's not been, you know, _brought up_ around Severus the way we have. He doesn't know him outside of school, and to be honest Severus _has_ been pretty harsh on all the Weasleys before."

"Then the Weasleys should learn to keep up in class."

"Not everyone is as advanced as you, you know! You don't have to be snotty about it."

"Excuse me?!"

"There's no excuse _for_ you, Aveline! You preach at me all the time about keeping my horizons broadened, but what about you? You've never given my Gryffindor friends a chance."

Aveline feels Harry's frustration with her, and it does absolutely nothing to dilute her fury. She can distantly feel Draco keeping tabs on both of them from the dungeons. He doesn't want to mentally butt in and get involved, but she knows he will if he has too.

She takes a deep breath and holds it. "Well? What does Ron have to say about Severus?"

"Just… you know how you tell Draco and me to question everything and _everyone_? No matter how close we are to them?"

Aveline nods tightly.

"Ron has a very different perception of Severus, _and_ the Malfoys, than you do. Maybe you should take it into account."

Aveline releases her breath in a hiss and slams her book shut.

"Wait!" Harry begs pleadingly.

She glares over her shoulder at him.

"Hagrid let slip another clue. About what the dog is guarding. It has to do with Dumbledore, obviously… and a man named Nicolas Flamel."

Aveline smirks at him. Harry Potter is all too adorable when he's confused and helpless. She digs deep into her bag, reaching for the sweets she carries around with her. She grasps a chocolate frog and tosses it at him. He catches it, utterly bewildered. His curiosity washes through her chest in waves.

She grins. "Hope you get Dumbledore this time."

* * *

Christmas comes much faster than anyone expected. Aveline and Draco had been so caught up in the festivities of it all, and the mid-year exams, that they'd hardly noticed the quickly approaching holidays.

Aveline watches Blaise lug his trunk to the Common Room mournfully. "Promise you'll come to the Manor at least once?"

Blaise snorts. " _Once_? Please, after Christmas Day Mum plans to ship me there until holidays end."

"It's true," Draco nods.

"You'll write to us, won't you?" Sophie demands, swatting Aveline's arm. The two girls have been curled on one armchair for the better part of an hour, watching everyone scurry and pack last minute.

"Of course! I'll enclose your presents as well."

"You'd better," Tracey snorts. She flips almost lazily through a broom magazine, but keeps a sharp eye on Goyle in the corner, who had received a book on jinxes as an early Christmas present.

"I didn't even know he could read," Draco mutters, seeing where Tracey's stare lies.

Tracey snickers, relaxing minimally, and goes back to her magazine.

"Oh, damn, that's the last warning from Snape," Blaise swears at the bell-like sound, stuffing crumpled underwear back in his trunk. It had popped open from being clasped too tightly.

Sophie sighs and flicks her wand his direction. The clothes sort and fold themselves neatly.

Aveline watches, impressed every time Sophie does a spell involving clothing. "You must be related to Narcissa distantly. She's incredible at household spells."

Sophie just smiles and shrugs a little. Aveline watches as she unfolds herself from the chair carefully and places her bags in the giant pile the house elves are in charge of transporting to the Express. Aveline had placed hers there hours ago.

Tracey does the same, taking pity on Blaise. Draco snickers at the look of absolute gratitude on his face when his bags are stacked neatly on top of everyone else's.

Draco holds out his arm for her, and Aveline stands fluidly, latching on to him. The walk with the rest of the departing Slytherins out to the Express station is cold and snowy. White flakes drift around them lazily; Hogsmeade shopkeepers wave at them out of windows.

"Narcissa and Lucius will be waiting to pick you up on the platform," Severus murmurs reassuringly to Aveline. He knows how anxious she is about being left alone on the train.

Aveline nods bravely, coolly. She barely bats an eyelash when she climbs onto the carriage and begins scanning seats with Draco.

Harry joyfully opens the link and shows them where he's sitting with Neville, Granger, and Ronald. Both Aveline and Draco feel his hesitant, unasked question.

 _Would… would you two like to sit with us?_

Aveline balks immediately, but Draco nudges her with his mind. He reminds her of the Circle they'd intended to create- the _interhouse_ Circle. Aveline huffs, but tosses excuses at Blaise and her roommates. She follows Draco to the carriages usually frequented by Gryffindors. Already, upper years are tossing sweets and copies of the Prophet from compartment to compartment. A third year winks at her, and Aveline shuffles closer to Draco.

He grins.

They find Harry's compartment easily and slip inside. Aveline casts a Silencing charm on the door immediately. The noise of everyone outside makes her head ache, and she doesn't care for her conversations to be overheard.

Hermione raises her eyebrows. "Wow, Aveline! That's a pretty advanced charm."

Aveline blinks at her. She knows the girl had meant it to be a compliment, but it just seems redundant to her. "Yes. Yes it is."

Hermione sniffs at her. Aveline is already irritated.

Harry looks between the two of them worriedly, then smiles and pats the seat next to him. "Well come on, sit down you two. How's Blaise?"

"He's fine." Draco wedges himself next to the window, pulling Aveline down to sit between him and Harry. As annoyed as she is, Aveline still loves the feeling she gets when she's next to both of her boys. The opportunities are becoming ever rarer.

The train chugs on, carting them towards London. Aveline laughs at Ronald's jokes- he can be quite amusing when he wants to be, it seems- and Harry's joy and appreciation surrounds her. The snow whips at the window, but the compartment seems very cozy. Even Hermione has managed to intrigue Aveline with comments on wizard journalism and how it compares to that of Muggles. Apparently, Muggles require training for that sort of thing, generally called a degree. It's an interesting idea, certifying the media. Aveline makes careful note of it.

Draco talks in undertones to Neville most of the way, but isn't stingy about smiling at Ron every now and then. Ron seems very disconcerted by this. Aveline can't help but snicker at his bewildered expression.

They unload the train together, Neville grasping Trevor tightly to avoid losing him in the fray. Parents wave and shout on the platform, trying to get the attention of the shrieking students.

Aveline stands on one of the lower steps of the carriage and scans the crowd for the Malfoys. They're standing near the brick wall that will take them into London. Aveline frowns at that. Why come through London? Why not just Apparate onto the platform as usual?

Then the Weasleys come through the barrier. Aveline stops breathing when Mr. Weasley approaches Lucius very warily and they exchange a few short, but pleasant, words. The Weasleys have _Sirius_ with them.

It is the first time Aveline realizes that there is a very large dividing line in her life. Hogwarts is the place where everyone's lives intersect. Out here, it screams of wrongness. Weasleys do not associate with Malfoys. Sirius is supposed to be loyal to _her_ , and she is loyal to Malfoys. It terrifies her to think that Sirius, and by extension Harry, exist in a world separate from her; a world full of Weasleys and half-bloods and Muggle London.

Harry tugs on the sleeve of her jumper and grins. "Look! There's Mr. and Mrs. Weasley! They're with Narcissa and Lucius."

"Yes," Aveline nods. She feels as if she might faint. "Indeed they are."

Hermione cuts in, darting between Aveline and Harry with the severity of a knife. She grins brilliantly at Harry. "I hope you have a wonderful holiday, Harry!"

To Aveline's immense surprise, Hermione turns shyly to Aveline. "You too, Aveline. I hope we can get to know each other better when we're back in school."

Aveline nods dumbly and stares after the bushy haired girl as she disappears into the throng.

Harry grabs her by the wrist and begins tugging her over to their guardians. Lucius raises his eyebrows when he spots Hermione scurrying off. For some strange reason, Aveline feels ashamed. Narcissa has her cold façade up for the public's sake, but still smiles when she catches Aveline's eye. Draco trudges along behind them, but gives his mother a small wave.

"Well, there he is!" Sirius barks a laugh when Harry lets go of Aveline's wrist to barrel into his godfather.

"Oh, Harry dear! Hello, it's perfectly lovely to meet you. I'm Ron's mum, and this is Mr. Weasley. We've known Sirius quite a long time, and were just saying how glad we'd be to have you both over for Christmas dinner."

Aveline stares at Mrs. Weasley, shocked to the core at this woman's presumptuousness. Sirius and Harry have had dinner on Christmas at Malfoy Manor with Severus and herself since Harry was rescued from the Dursleys.

Sirius smiles a bit, and Aveline feels intense satisfaction at the thought of him turning this woman's offer down.

"That would be lovely, Molly, thank you."

For a moment, Aveline forgets who and where she is and blatantly gapes at Sirius Black. Draco does the same before Narcissa nudges them both, and they quickly scrape their jaws off the ground. Draco scowls. Aveline makes her face as impassive as possible

"I also hope Harry won't be a bother to you this week," Sirius continues. For the second time since she arrived, Aveline stops breathing.

"Oh not at all! After he's been such a good friend to our little Ron here-" Aveline hadn't even noticed his approach- "it's really no trouble. We're glad to have him."

Aveline tears down Harry's mental blocks with a vengeance. _HOW DARE YOU?!_

 _When were you going to tell us? Or were you going to even bother?_ Draco's questions are cold and seething.

 _I was going to tell you eventually. In my first letter to you guys over the holidays. Please, don't be angry. Ron asked, and I just couldn't say no! He's my best friend._

 _Will we even see you?_

 _Maybe. Probably…I don't know._

There are two worlds on either side of the dividing line. Harry has clearly chosen his.

Aveline compares Mrs. Weasley's floral print dress and threadbare coat to Narcissa's expensive silks and furs. One world is all bright reds and browns and heat. The other is smooth, cool, gray and blue.

Aveline's world is further shattered when Severus approaches. "It appears I have been released earlier than expected. Minerva volunteered to watch over my assigned carriages. Hello Molly, Arthur."

Her guardian, her loyal and loving and steadfast guardian, speaks first not to the Malfoys, but the Weasleys. He is on a first name basis with blood traitors and poor ones at that; people devoted entirely to the Light. Aveline's blood rushes through her, confused and dizzy like a whirlpool.

 _Arthur_ and _Molly_ both smile easily and exchange pleasantries with Severus. Lucius barely refrains from rolling his eyes. Narcissa keeps glancing at the Crabbes with worry carefully hidden.

Severus Snape knows the Weasleys very well. He is like family to the Malfoys. He is the only family she has ever known herself.

Which world belongs to her?

She watches as Harry leaves, hardly feeling the tight squeeze of his hug. He even hugs Draco goodbye. Draco has the presence of mind to hug back. Sirius tussles her hair and follows the Weasleys out with a curt nod to Narcissa and Lucius.

Snape murmurs that he will meet them back at the Manor once he runs a few errands. Draco takes her bag from her, insists on carrying it.

Narcissa folds Aveline under her warm cloak. Aveline still feels frozen.

Lucius and Draco disappear with a _pop_.

When the tightness of Side-Along Apparition threatens to suffocate her, Aveline barely notices a difference.

For the first time, being with the Malfoys feels like a curse, not a privilege, and it makes her hurt.

* * *

Day breaks early on Christmas morning. Sunlight filters in and slips through Aveline's curtains. Her room illuminates browns and greens; two colors arguing over which she should claim as her favorite.

She has kept Harry firmly out of her mind and her emotions. She cannot bear to watch him cavort with the Weasley siblings, eat breakfast with them, play Quidditch with them in the snow.

Draco is not yet awake. She doesn't blame him. If it weren't for the stupid light, she'd still be blissfully unconscious, too. She sighs and opens her eyes. Jinx is in her face, whiskers twitching and bright green eyes blinking in a very bored fashion. Across the room, Isis hoots happily as she flies through the window. Someone has left a large pile of owl treats in her cage. Aveline sighs and gently pushes her cat away. At the foot of her bed, stacked on top of her trunk, is a giant stack of presents.

She can't help but smile a little. She scoots to the edge of her mattress, taking the warm blankets with her and making Jinx irritated. She's very glad she's at Beathan this morning instead of in the gloomy Manor. Lucius has begun to seem oppressive rather than protective. She still hasn't decided how she feels about that.

Aveline pushes her dark hair out of her eyes and reaches for the smallest present. It doesn't have shiny wrapping paper or even a tag proclaiming the sender. The tiny parcel seems very out of place in the pile of festive gifts.

She frowns down at it, begins unwrapping it slowly. For some reason she can't explain, her hands start to shake.

 _That's it._

The voice comes out of nowhere, startling her. It is barely a whisper.

 _I do hope you enjoy your gift, daughter._

She drops it instantly, tears burning the corner of her eyes. First her birthday, now Christmas.

Very carefully, she takes a deep breath and begins constructing walls in her mind. Not even her soul mates can penetrate her walls when she builds them this thick. It is more than enough to keep her spectral father out.

"Severus," she calls. Her voice is shaky. She doesn't think she can manage much more volume. She hopes he is near and will hear her.

He does. Relief makes her head pound. Severus is always near, always helping her. In this strange world that often intersects with stranger ones, he is her constant.

"Yes, Aveline?" He lingers in her door like a shadow. It would be so weird to see him in anything but black.

"Severus," Aveline whispers. Her breath gets caught, and she is forced to clear her throat and start again. She must keep the fear contained, or the walls in her head will crumble. "Severus, I received a strange parcel. It's from… from _him._ From my father."

Severus blinks once, eyes falling to the plain package on her bed. Then his eyes meet hers again. "I screened all your gifts for harmful magic. There was none. I did assume, however, one of your friends had sent that."

She stares at him a moment, trembling in her own bed, then understands. Whether she opens the gift or not is up to her.

She takes a deep breath and finishes unwrapping it. A tiny box falls into her palm. She slowly lifts the lid.

Inside is a black onyx crystal attached to a chain made of diamonds. It seems to pulse in her palm.

Aveline remembers that Severus had scanned her gifts for _harmful_ magic. He had carefully avoided the word _Dark_ , which is clearly what this is. Still, he watches her carefully, almost in a curious sort of way.

Inside the box is a scrap of parchment. In blocky writing, the words _to gather your forces_ are written.

Aveline understands at once. This item is Dark and very valuable. It will only gain value over time, should she choose to utilize it. The crystal would soak up any residual magic in an entire area. It would drain her friends, the wards around the house, around Hogwarts, _her._ It would consume and take until it was utilized, perhaps with catastrophic consequences. She senses the power and craves it.

Aveline puts the crystal back in the box, folds the paper in with it. She makes her decision. "I'd like to take this to Ciaran, when we go. I'll hang it in my room there."

Severus keeps his expression carefully neutral, but seems satisfied. He undoubtedly recognizes the power siphon. They rarely talk about Ciaran. When Beathan was built, Severus also built a very cold, granite structure with sprawling grounds. The inside of the house held many Dark objects. Aveline understands the need to own a house like this. She also understands why Severus chose to raise her here, instead.

He nods and holds out his hand. She places the box into it, and it disappears into his robes. Instantly, she feels lighter, freer.

She smiles a bit at him, and he gestures to her unopened presents. "We can take those to the Manor, if you wish."

She thinks about opening presents under Narcissa's watchful gaze, under Lucius's calculating stare. She thinks about having to censor her reactions to them all. She shakes her head.

Severus nods slowly. "Alright, then. Sirius contacted me yesterday. He wanted to know if you and Draco would consider joining the Weasley festivities today."

Something dangerous and strong blooms in Aveline's chest. Still, the Malfoys are loyal to her. She is loyal to them. They are powerful and always followed her father faithfully. It would be very stupid to break ties with them. Besides, Draco is her soul mate too. "What about Lucius and Narcissa?"

"…It was their idea as well."

Aveline is so surprised by this she summons a gust of wind strong enough to burst her windows open. Severus smiles.

"Honestly? I mean, they won't be, er, disappointed?"

"Not at all," Severus shrugs. "Actually, they were invited to celebrate with the Minister today, and quite needed a way to let you and Draco down gently. They're going to open presents with Draco, and then drop him off here."

Aveline's head spins. Here is the answer she has been desperately trying to piece together over the last few days. The Malfoys were invited to celebrate the holidays with the Minister every year. Did they ever accept? Of course not. It was a bit of a sport in the richer circles; flaunting the Minister's invitation and then lamenting all the other, even more important invitations that would undoubtedly cause their absences.

Narcissa and Lucius are blatantly giving not only Aveline but also their precious son permission to form relationships with Light blood traitors.

Aveline smiles broadly. "In that case, I'd love to go. I'm sure Draco will, too. I'll open the rest of my presents here, though."

Perhaps she doesn't have to choose worlds. Perhaps they'll both deliciously _collide._

* * *

" _Draco! Aveline!_ " Harry hurtles himself through a maze of redheads and throws his arms around them both.

Aveline grins and snuggles closer. Draco tries and fails to hide his smirk.

"Oh come in, come in dears, you'll catch your death out in that cold. Hello Sirius, Severus," Molly Weasley smiles from her place next to the stove.

Aveline slowly follows Harry into the home dubbed the Burrow. It is the strangest home she has ever seen in her life, including Luna's tower-shaped house. Parts of it jut out at odd angles, and it looks as though it is supported by magic alone.

She likes it very much.

Inside the warmth of the kitchen, Aveline spots dish upon dish of fantastic food, stray socks, destroyed bits of wrapping paper, and random holiday decorations. A humble tree stands in the corner of a sitting room, sagging with the weight of popcorn tinsel and Muggle glass orbs. There's a rather strange clock on one wall, depicting each member of the family. Rather than showing the time, there are indicators of location; _home, school, work, garden, prison, Quidditch, lost, mortal peril, traveling, hospital._

Aveline watches as two boys who look exactly the same come catapulting down the stairs, laughing and tripping over each other. They hold something obnoxiously pink in their hands; a young girl with flaming red hair comes bolting after them, cursing loudly and snarling at their retreating backs.

" _MUM_ , they _TOOK_ my new sweater!"

"Oh, Ginny dear, do quiet down. We have guests," Molly murmurs, tucking the girl under her arms. Aveline observes that they have the same nose. "Aveline, Draco, this is Ginny. Ginny, these are Harry and Ron's friends."

Aveline is startled to hear herself described as Ron's friend. Draco's surprise filters to her over the link, but Ron just blushes at the assessment. He doesn't deny it in the slightest.

"Nice to meet you, Ginny," Draco nods politely.

Aveline manages a tiny smile. The house is incredibly noisy and chaotic. It's more than a bit overwhelming.

"Hello," Ginny says shyly. She turns crimson and ducks back behind her mother. This isn't anything like the rambunctious girl Luna always described.

" _Merlin! GINEVRA WEASLEY_ WHERE IS YOUR SHIRT?!"

Aveline winces right along with Ginny at Molly's indignant screech. She'd glanced down at Ginny only to find her in a thin, white undershirt.

"I _told you_ , the twins took my new sweater!"

Molly swipes her curly red hair out of her eyes and smiles at Sirius, who has been snickering nonstop since entering the Burrow. "Excuse me just a moment. Everyone make themselves at home. _BOYS!_ "

Severus's hand on her back guides her into the sitting room. Ron, Harry, and Draco follow. Ginny trots back up the stairs to wait on her sweater.

"Sorry about all the fuss. Mum and Dad's portkey to Romania got cancelled rather abruptly a few days ago. Otherwise we'd all be spending the holidays at school. The extra preparation has driven her a bit mental." Ron slumps down on a sofa, a dark maroon sweater emblazoned with an _R_ scrunching up around his midsection.

"That sweater looks dashing with your hair!" The words are out before Aveline can take them back or hold them in. She blushes redder than the hair in question and sinks to the floor, knees to her chest. If Narcissa could see her sitting so unladylike in the new green dress she'd gifted her with…

Ron's face splits into a grin. "Really? You think it looks good?"

Aveline manages to nod, but barely.

"That's ace! I've always _hated_ maroon. Thanks a lot!"

"Thank you for having us over, Weas- I mean, er, Ron." Draco shifts uncomfortably on the arm of a chair occupied by Harry. Aveline snickers at him behind her arm. He's always been much too formal in uncomfortable situations.

"Yeah totally. Harry and I were going spare with just Fred, George, and _Percy_ for company. I mean, I 'spose we all had Gin, but she's a _girl_ , you know? No offense, Aveline!"

Aveline barely notices the sexist insult. Instead, she's busy tallying the Weasley siblings inside her head. "Don't you have two more brothers?"

"Yeah," Ron nods. "Bill's got a pretty demanding job with Gringotts, so he had to work today. But he'll be by later tonight! And then Charlie, he's in Romania studying dragons. That's why Mum and Dad needed that Portkey."

"Dragons?" Draco asks eagerly. Harry grins at him. It's no secret that dragons are Draco's favorite animal, magical or otherwise.

Ron nods, somewhat bewildered. He's never seen Draco Malfoy so… _eager._ It's a bit creepy. "Yeah. He was always super interested in Care of Magical Creatures."

Through the link, Aveline notices Harry's sense of urgency. He glances at the doorway leading to the kitchen. Mrs. Weasley has her back turned to all of them, sweater apparently secured.

 _What is it, Harry?_

"Let's go to your room, Ron," Harry suggests easily, but there's _something_ under his tone.

Ron shrugs. "Sure."

Draco brings up the rear as they troupe up the steps. The stairs all creak underneath them. There are several flights of them, rounding story after story. Aveline wonders what it would have been like to grow up in a home as close-quartered as this, with many other children and two parents and no money. There are moving photographs on the wall rather than stuffy old portraits. Red-headed children gallivant in their frames. Each one of them looks excessively happy.

The group climbs all the way to the fifth floor. There's only one door here, and Ron swings it open without much fanfare, his face red again. "This is my room. Excuse the mess, it's all Harry's fault."

"Is not! If Fred and George hadn't scared us half to death as a wake-up call this morning-"

"If _you_ hadn't jumped ten feet in the air like a ruddy _girl_ -"

"It's brilliant!" Draco grins.

Ron stops in his tracks, whirling around on his heel. He has the most incredulous look on his face Aveline's ever seen. What would it be like to live in a world where you didn't hide your emotions or consciously decide to show them?

"Don't be nice just because you don't want to piss off Snape-"

"I'm not," Draco sneers. "Believe me when I say that neither Snape nor my parents would give a damn if I were rude to you. I honestly happen to like your room. Chudley Cannons, huh?"

Draco's sneer turned compliment seems to give poor Ron whiplash entirely. He stands there gaping like a fish until Harry sighs and flops down on a makeshift cot next to Ron's unmade bed.

"I brought you guys up here to show you what I got this morning," Harry says. This seems to snap Ron back to reality.

"It's incredible!"

Out from the depths of Harry's bag comes a cloak that seems to be made of water and hemmed by silver thread. Aveline gasps. Draco's jaw drops open.

 _An invisibility cloak?!_

This is not the first time their thoughts have aligned, but it is the first time they've seen a magical object that even Lucius had a hard time obtaining. And here it is, obviously one of the best in the world, which had seemingly fallen into their eleven-year-old soul mate's lap.

"I know right?" Harry nods smugly. Then his face falls. "The card said it used to belong to my dad."

"Does it _work_?" Draco asks, incredulous.

Ron snorts. "Does it _work_ , he says! Show him Harry!"

Harry bites his lip and tosses the cloth over his head. Instantly he's gone. Not even a faint shimmer remains.

Aveline taps into the link and slips into his head. He's still on the cot.

"Wicked," she breathes.

Someone taps at the door, and they all whirl around to find Sirius in the doorway, grinning broadly and covered in stick-on Christmas bows. "The twins got me. Don't ask. It's a long story. Molly wanted me to let you all know that lunch is ready!"

It takes Sirius a moment, and then he blinks. "Where's Harry?"

"Believe me," Draco snickers under his breath, "you wouldn't believe us if we told you."

"He's in the bathroom getting the sweater on Mum knitted for him," Ron interjects quickly. He ushers both her and Draco toward the door.

Aveline casts a quick glance at Harry's open bag. Indeed, there's an emerald sweater inside. She can see one side of an embroidered _H_.

It makes her throat ache with tears she can't explain.

* * *

Aveline is very irritated, even though technically she's asleep.

Sometimes, whenever one of her soul mates is awake while she's asleep, she'll accidentally slip into their minds. Then she lives their lives with them for a little while. She wishes Harry was asleep with her and Draco, cuddled soundly into their dorms after the long train ride back to Hogwarts. They _could_ be sharing fantastic dreams in which they can fly right now.

But no. Draco is still firmly in the dark behind his own eyelids, and Harry is wondering the corridors under his invisibility cloak.

If her breathing wasn't deep and even, she'd huff out a sigh of pure exasperation.

 _A lantern floating along, Harry's supporting hand invisible._

 _Row upon row of shelves. The books are whispering about the invisible boy that shouldn't be there._

 _Titles in gold, titles in dead and forgotten languages, books with no titles at all. Books stained with blood. Books with only diagrams. Blood rituals. Biographies of Dark witches and wizards. Light spellbooks that are banned because of Dark sequels. Books that shriek when opened._

 _Draco arrives in Harry's head at the same time Filch arrives in the Restricted Section._

 _FILCH!_

 _Harry runs, and Aveline and Draco run with him. No more lantern. Upstairs, down stairs, through empty classrooms, corridors and suits of armor blurring by._

 _Then, a mirror. It is large and gold with an odd inscription._

 _Harry is terrified. The room around him is empty; the space around his reflection is not. The woman has his eyes, the same electric green and the same shape. The man has untidy hair and Harry's chin. There are at least ten more people behind them, knobbly knees, black brown red hair, and green, green eyes._

 _Terrible joy. Wonderful sadness. A strange noise in the hall._

" _I'll be back," Harry whispers._

 _Aveline and Draco grieve with him all the way back to Gryffindor Tower._

"Why didn't you take us?" Ron demands. It is just like Harry to go having an adventure with an invisibility cloak without him.

"I didn't exactly _intend_ to wind up there, Ron. I was running from Filch and just… found it."

Aveline remembers the pain he had felt in her dream. It's echoed through the link by Draco. She stands very still, her feet against the floor of the third floor corridor classroom. She doesn't want him going alone tonight, with just Ron, who will never see what Harry saw. It had taken her no time at all to decipher the words on the mirror. "Can we come tonight?"

Harry looks from her, to Ron, to Draco. Then he nods.

"Blimey," Ron breathes, staring into the mirror.

"Can you see them? My mum and dad?!"

"No, sorry. I see _myself._ But I'm older! And I'm _Head Boy!_ And Quidditch captain!"

" _What_?"

Aveline sends as much patience and understanding as she can to Harry. His shoulders relax.

They give Ron several minutes in front of the mirror, admiring what he hopes to be in the future. Then Draco says, "Can I have a go now?"

Ron nods reluctantly and steps aside. Draco stands in front of the mirror for several long moments, his brow furrowed.

He doesn't say a word, not even when Ron loudly demands to know what he sees.

Aveline pushes tentatively at his barriers and he allows her in. Harry follows quickly, and through Draco's eyes they see what he sees.

Draco is much older and a Medicinal Auror; a wizard that has completed both Healer _and_ Auror training. They are rare and only sent on the most important and high-risk of missions. He's being recognized by a faceless Minister for his bravery and valor in a critical situation. Harry, Aveline, the Circle, and his parents gaze on proudly.

It is possibly the Lightest thing in the world to wish for; to not only heal, but also to protect.

Aveline, for all her soul's connection to his, has never realized that Draco has already found his calling in life and yearns for it with all his heart. She realizes it is a secret he has carefully guarded, even from his self. His family is notoriously Dark. What hope does he have of that future with his last name?

Draco jerks away from the mirror violently; Aveline and Harry slip out of his mind and give him a wide berth. He slinks to a corner and slumps heavily into it, sulking.

"Ruddy mirror," they hear him curse.

Aveline is terrified. The mirror shows your _true_ desires. Even ones you don't consider possible or won't admit to yourself.

With Draco out of the way, she's been thrust unceremoniously in front of it. The reflection catches her eye and holds it, entirely entrancing.

She's older and has one of her boys on each arm. Both Harry and Draco look entirely attractive, each of them practically smoldering next to her. Behind them are all of her friends. All of them are brandishing wands and smiling viciously. Severus stands in the back, smirking proudly.

Harry kisses her reflection's cheek. Draco winks at her and then does the same. Aveline blushes bright red.

What she wants most in the world is _loyalty_. It is not a Dark thing, but the image certainly isn't Light either.

When Draco and Harry ask her what she sees, she shrugs and says, "I'm graduating from Hogwarts with honors."

Ron laughs. "Hermione would probably see the exact same thing as you!"

Aveline pictures two boys that irrevocably belong to her. She smiles. "Somehow I doubt it."


	8. Chapter 8

The mirror is moved very soon after that. Aveline puts it out of her mind without a second thought. Draco struggles for a few days, purposefully botching his potions and making Snape dock House points like crazy. The Gryffindors get a real kick out of it. Harry broods for a while until it is announced that Severus is going to be refereeing the next Quidditch match. Severus won't tell Aveline why he volunteered for the referee job. It bothers her more than it should.

Ron is her friend now; she and Draco are even debating the merits of asking Harry to invite him into the Circle. Ron might be a bit of a blockhead from time to time, but he isn't unintelligent. Through him, it is steadily becoming apparent that Severus loathes Gryffindor House.

She is beginning to finally follow her own advice; _question everything_.

She questions Severus. She questions the Malfoys. She questions the Gryffindors.

Her mind is in a constant state of confusion, so when Hermione asks her desperately to study with her for the upcoming exams- still ten weeks away- Aveline readily agrees.

* * *

"OH MY GOD!"

The Muggle expression bursts from Hermione's lips entirely without her permission. Aveline looks up in alarm, shiny dark hair falling over one of her hazel eyes. Hermione has always tried very hard not to be jealous of Aveline's good looks, but it's becoming excessively difficult.

If Aveline weren't the first female friend she's ever had, she might actually detest her as much as she does Pansy Parkinson.

Madam Pince glares at Hermione and presses a warning finger to her lips. Hermione hardly notices, but she doesn't say anything else. Her book trembles on her lap. Often, she takes ten minute study breaks involving light reading to keep her brain working during extended study sessions. Who would have thought that the book she'd checked out weeks ago would lead her right to Nicolas Flamel?! She'd thought for sure that they'd hit a dead end.

"What's the matter?" Aveline whispers.

"I've found him! I've found Nicolas Flamel!" Hermione shrieks quietly.

To Hermione's great surprise, Aveline smirks at her in a way scarily reminiscent of Draco. "Took you long enough. I was getting worried, Granger."

Hermione Granger is struck speechless. She watches wordlessly as Aveline packs her bag and winks at her. "I'll leave you and Flamel to get better acquainted, hm?"

 _The stone will transform any object to pure gold… it also produces a liquid…any drinker immortal…_

* * *

There is a frantic beating on the classroom door on the third floor corridor. The Circle members stop talking instantly. Theo dives under a desk and nearly wipes the floor with Blaise when he falls.

Aveline crouches down behind several chairs. Draco folds himself behind the ratty cobweb filled curtains.

Harry crawls on his stomach to the door, peering through the cracked glass at the bottom.

"It's only Neville," he says reassuringly and stands to open the door. Neville makes a strangled yelping sound and falls to the ground.

"Neville's got a Leg-Locker Curse on him," Ron frowns in the doorway, peering at their astonished faces curiously. "Goyle got a hold of him outside the library. I helped him up, but I didn't know the counter-curse. I was going to take him back to the tower, but he said this was closer."

Aveline crawls out from behind the chairs and helps Neville to his feet. She performs the counter-curse flawlessly, but his muscles seize up and he falls again. He's close to tears, really, by the time Theo sits down next to him and throws an arm across his shoulders.

"First time a Slytherin gets ahold of you and you give away the entire secret society!" Blaise chuckles.

"Secret society?" Ron gasps.

"We were just voting on whether to induct you, actually," Blaise continues.

Ron gapes at all of them.

"Relax, Weasley," Draco drawls, stretching himself out on the floor. "It was a unanimous yes."

Ron recovers and grins. "It's about bloody time!"

"It wasn't the first time this happened, Blaise," Neville spits, venom in his voice.

"Neville! You should report him!"

"No, I don't want more trouble. And don't go bothering with saying I should never have been Sorted into Gryffindor. Goyle already informed me of my cowardice."

"You're worth twelve of Goyle!" Ron growls.

"I'm just impressed he knew the curse," Aveline mutters.

* * *

"Don't be nervous, Harry. Severus is refereeing this game! Nothing bad will happen."

Aveline isn't entirely sure she has confidence in her own words anymore.

Draco isn't entirely sure he wants Harry to do well in this match. Winning the House Cup would be amazing.

Harry just wishes everyone would shut up. He is feeling way too queasy.

* * *

The match goes okay.

Neville tells off Goyle. Neville, Ron, and Goyle get into a fist fight.

Hermione latches onto Aveline; they both hop up and down in their seats as Harry wins the match.

Draco and Theo share a ton of junk food.

Blaise manages to flirt with a third year for a whole seven minutes.

All in all, it's a success.

* * *

Harry watches as Severus sneaks into the Forbidden Forest to harangue Quirrell.

He's not quite sure how to interpret their conversation; all he knows for sure is that one of them is out to steal the stone.

* * *

"It's tonight," Harry says to Ron.

Ron nods very seriously. "Okay. I'll be there."

"Me too," Hermione smiles.

Harry feels something warm grow inside of him and wonders if maybe he was blessed with four soul mates after all.

* * *

"I-I'm sorry, Harry. But I can't let you go."

"And why the bloody hell not?" Ron snarls at Neville.

"You'll get in so much trouble! Draco and Aveline already snuck Hagrid's ruddy dragon out of the castle this week-"

"They _what?_!" Hermione gasps.

"And that alone nearly gave me a coronary. So I'm sorry, but I simply cannot allow-"

"Never mind. Neville, I'm so, so sorry about this," Hermione bites her lip, and ultimately curses one of their closest friends.

Sometimes Harry really, really loves Hermione.

In his head, Aveline gives her grudging approval.

* * *

Aveline and Draco agree to wait in the corridor as backup, just in case. They'll be able to see through Harry's head if anything goes wrong. Naturally, Ron and Hermione think they're just lookouts.

Psh. As if.

They watch the Devil's Snare, they see the chess match, they see the troll and the potion riddle and the keys _and and and-_

And Quirrel.

 _See Harry, I told you Severus would never do anything against us!_ Aveline hisses mentally.

 _That's not really relevant right now_ , he snaps.

Draco rolls his eyes at them both.

And then her father is underneath her teacher's turban, and when Aveline vomits, it tastes like blood.

* * *

Quirrel's shrieks.

Voldemort screeching. "KILL HIM. KILL HIM NOW!"

And voices in his head, her head, his head, _"Harry Harry Harry Harry-"_

And then nothingness.

* * *

"There is something you're not telling me about the girl, Severus."

Severus cannot deny it, cannot hide it. There is no point anymore. The damned Dark Lord almost took Harry, and with him, Draco, and… and…

His soul could not withstand losing her.

"Yes."

"She vomited blood whereas Draco and Harry did not, and yet Madame Pomfrey could find no internal injury."

"…Yes."

"Curiouser and curiouser," Dumbledore mumbles. And then he walks away, to speak with Harry.

Severus manages to stay next to Aveline's side when he hears mention of Lily from two beds down the infirmary row, but only barely.

As she sleeps, Aveline's hand tightens around his.

* * *

When Harry wakes, the first thing he sees are Dumbledore's golden spectacles.

He'd been hoping for gray eyes and black marks.

* * *

On the train ride home, Ron and Hermione are added to their compartment group. Aveline leans over to rest her head on the other girl's shoulder, trying to block out the noise of Blaise, Neville, and Theo's game of Exploding Snaps. Hermione tenses in surprise, but doesn't lower her book.

Aveline notices her biting her lip against a smile.

Which is why she shocks the hell out of herself by saying, "Come over this summer."

Hermione seems to shock herself as well when she says, "Oh I'd love to!"

This time, it is Aveline hiding her smile.

Harry's love through their link blows her away. He does not bother to hide his grin.

Draco watches her silently.

* * *

Sirius Black observes carefully as the children step off the train. He has never been a particularly responsible person, but Azkaban changed him. He made a vow to himself in the darkest of times, to honor his best friend's son, to love him as his own. As it turns out, Sirius is apparently very protective of what he loves. Harry's friends, it seems, are necessary for Harry's health, happiness, and mental stability. Therefore, his friends fall under Sirius's protective instinct.

Sirius was contacted when Harry was hurt by that bastard Voldemort. He did not murder Dumbledore, as he had greatly wished. He did not even yell.

Sirius was a Gryffindor by choice. That does not mean he could not have done very well in Slytherin. He is a Black, after all.

He will play his cards right this time. Sirius Black will wait. It is something he is very, very good at. And when the time is right, the world will wish it had never gone against the Marauders or their only son.

Harry runs to Sirius, and Sirius holds on tight.


	9. Chapter 9

Aveline shivers in the damp air.

Severus had insisted on bringing her here for the first two weeks of the summer holiday. Ciaran is not nearly as homey as Beathan, but Aveline almost witnessed Voldemort rise once more, and after that a little Dark warding isn't all that impressive upon her delicate psyche.

An inhuman screech sounds from the library as she passes it. She rolls her eyes.

"Dumbledore has been asking about you, Aveline. He knows we are keeping something from him." Aveline had glanced from Severus to Narcissa to Lucius. They had asked her and Severus over for tea after school let out. The Manor had been dark and cool. She found herself wondering if Hermione would like it when they both inevitably visited over the summer.

"Let him wonder," Aveline had replied nonchalantly, licking the sugar from around the rim of her cup. It is a habit Narcissa has come to despise in her, but one she refuses to break.

In her head, Draco had nodded, eyes full of steel.

Now, faced with this house full of Darkness for two weeks, Aveline wonders if perhaps she shouldn't have informed Dumbledore of her lineage after all.

Then she remembers his attempt at persuading Harry to visit his atrocious aunt and uncle this summer, and she shudders in contempt.

No, this second house made of marble and curses is much better than trusting Dumbledore.

* * *

 _"SIRIUS BLACK!"_

"Run!"

Harry darts down a side-street and has sprinted three blocks more before the indignant screeches of Madam Rosmerta fade. Padfoot pants heavily beside him. Harry vaguely feels Draco's amusement from hundreds of miles away.

"Honestly, Padfoot, why didn't you think to grab a few Galleons on the way out the door tonight?"

The shaggy dog casts Harry an irritated look, but makes no gestures of reply.

Together, the two trek to the Shrieking Shack and duck inside with a basket full of warm food from The Three Broomsticks, ale for Sirius, pumpkin juice for Harry. They lie on their backs on the rough floorboards and stare through the patchy ceiling to the sky beyond.

"I really do need to invest in a skylight for the flat back in London," Sirius muses quietly.

Harry closes his eyes for one prolonged moment.

* * *

Hermione wraps her fingers through those of her father, leaning in close to him despite the balmy air of the forest around them. Camping in the Forest of Dean has always been a treasured experience for Hermione, but now it is even more so because now she knows that she is a witch and that the wood nymphs peering out at her are not in her imagination. They flicker between boulders, streams, trees. Fairies and fireflies intertwine mid-air.

She feels so very sorry for her parents, humans that carry a gene they cannot use to see the things she sees.

"Tell us all about Hogwarts, darling," her mother encourages. "You mentioned so many lovely friends in your letters!"

"Yes, I have several," Hermione nods shyly. She is not accustomed to speaking of _friends_. The word feels foreign in her head. "Of course, Harry and Ron are my very _best_ of friends. They're incredible! Only…"

"Only?" her father growls, protective concern in every syllable. He isn't entirely sold on his daughter befriending boys more easily than girls. His fingers tighten around hers.

"Only there's this girl," Hermione rushes, picturing Aveline in her head and wondering still at how such a creature could possibly exist. Hermione is much more intelligent than anyone suspects thus far. She knows what Aveline is, and entirely human she is not.

"Oh? This Ava girl, yes?" her mother asks excitedly. Hermione knows she is picturing shopping trips and ice cream parlors and all kinds of outings that will likely never happen.

"Aveline, Mum," Hermione corrects gently. She has only written home about Aveline once or twice. She doesn't blame her mother for forgetting the strange name. Although, Hermione amends mentally, her mother really _should_ be accustomed to strange names.

"Well, that's more like it!" Her father spears a sausage with renewed vigor.

"She's quite lovely! She's the, er, daughter of a professor at my school." Hermione doesn't honestly know _how_ to describe Aveline's relation to Snape, but _daughter_ seems the most appropriate term.

"Oh that's fantastic, sweetheart! She must be very smart."

Hermione thinks of Aveline's dark eyes, sharp and alive in a way most children's are not. "Yes. Smarter than I am, even, I believe."

After her parents appropriately assure her this cannot possibly be true, Hermione says very quietly and with a smile she cannot quite contain, "She asked me to visit this summer."

"Well, we'll just have to stop and get you some new luggage on the way home then," her father says decisively, and Hermione turns her head to roll her eyes at the new tone of approval in his voice.

* * *

Draco gives Blaise and Theo a jaunty wave goodbye from the front door of the Manor, waits politely until their parents Apparate them away, and then retreats back into the cool dark marble of his home.

"I'm debating on telling Sirius Black about the girl." The admission comes from somewhere far away, but Draco follows it up a small flight of stairs to his father's first-floor study. It is strange for it to be in use. Generally, his father only hosts guests in this study when they are new business or Ministry acquaintances that he cannot yet trust and has no intention of humoring.

"Oh, Severus, don't you dare!" His mother's voice is a hiss, sharp and demanding. Draco senses the fear underneath it and his shoulders tense in response. He presses his ear to the door carefully, wishes they were in the second floor study instead so that he would have a hidden passageway to spy through.

"He has a right to know, Narcissa, much as I am loathe to admit it," Severus mutters.

"He has the right to no information. He is privileged to receive what we give him." His father sounds cold and aloof. Suddenly Draco understands.

 _Severus_ is the acquaintance in this case. Severus is the one that has an asset to be bargained, and that asset is Draco's _soul mate._ His mother and father would not sound so unfeeling if they were not affected to the very bone by whatever Severus is proposing. The first floor study is a scare tactic because Severus is holding all the cards.

White hot rage sizzles from his fingertips to his hairline to the soles of his feet.

"The Potter boy is tied to Aveline, Lucius," Severus sighs. He sounds years older and much too weary for his own good. "Black will find out whose daughter Aveline truly is eventually. It is only a matter of time. If we tell him now, we might have some measure of control over how he reacts."

"If we tell him now, we lose _all_ control. Black has no loyalty to Dumbledore on a personal basis, but if it comes down to the Light and the Dark once more, we all know exactly where Sirius Black's devotion lies. And with what the Dark Lord has told you to set in motion via Legilimancy just last night-"

"I know. I know. If he succeeds… Aveline is not at all prepared to face the Dark Lord. She's not old enough to assume the responsibilities of heir apparent, and she's certainly not strong enough as of yet to hide her emotional ties to Harry Potter."

"All would be lost in less than a month," Narcissa says with no small amount of disgust and pure terror.

Meanwhile Draco's head spins. He has always known that Aveline was not truly Snape's daughter, but he had assumed she was the illegitimate daughter of a Pureblood man and another's wife, a scandalous affair among his father and godfather's social circle that needed covering up. Such a thing is not uncommon in their reality. But _this._

Draco slams his mental blocks down so hard his ears start to ring.

 _Aveline is the daughter of Lord Voldemort._

And then, the terrible connection; _Lord Voldemort murdered Harry's parents._

Draco steps away from the door. His father has made his Dark intentions clear. Something is about to happen concerning the Dark Lord. Voldemort will not stop until he has returned in a corporeal form. Something big is about to happen. Something that might put Aveline in danger. Something Harry cannot know, or Harry just might _die_ , one way or another _._

Sirius Black is loyal to the Light, which is led by Dumbledore, but more importantly, Sirius is loyal to Harry. Sirius Black is also tied irrefutably to Aveline. Aveline is the Dark Lord's daughter. Draco's father is loyal to the Dark Lord. Severus Snape is trying desperately to stay afloat between Dumbledore and Aveline and Sirius and Draco's parents.

Draco has a lot of thinking to do.

* * *

"We get to start Hogwarts in September," Luna breathes.

Next to her, Ginny Weasley grins.

They are hanging upside down by their knees in the shed behind the Burrow, blood rushing delightfully to their brains. From here, Luna can almost see her own house through the cracks in the wood. The day is too hot to be tolerated, but Luna's father had recently published a piece in the Quibbler about keeping cool by turning oneself on one's head. So far it doesn't seem to be working.

"You have friends at Hogwarts, right?"

"Oh yes. They're a delightful Circle of friends," Luna nods, careful to veil her secret in words.

"I hope they'll like me too," Ginny says quietly.

"Of course they will. I'm sure I'll be able to introduce you properly soon. I'll have to make you some moonstone earrings for luck."

Sweat drips from their red and gold hair. Neither notice the odd looks both Fred and George give them when they open the shed door to retrieve the old brooms.

* * *

"You do understand that what you are planning to do will kill someone's daughter. Someone we have formed a peaceful truce with at long last." Narcissa's voice is casual, but she feels an intense sort of burning in her throat, in her chest, in the pit of her stomach.

"Yes, Narcissa, I understand," Lucius sighs. He flips another page in the _Prophet_ rather nonchalantly.

"This will destroy that alliance. Potter is linked to that family, Lucius. And our son is linked to Potter."

"Don't remind me," Lucius grimaces.

"If you do this, I'm leaving you."

This catches Lucius's attention. He glances up from the _Prophet_ sharply, staring at his wife with astonishment.

Narcissa refrains from smirking, but only barely. She takes a sip of her tea and waits for his reaction.

He stares at her, eyes piercing and scrutinizing her every move. She finds his gaze still gives her chills that feel more like heat. She will miss that, if he makes an unfortunate choice.

"Elaborate," he says finally.

"I'm siding with the Light, Lucius."

Lucius actually begins to laugh, deep belly laughs she hasn't heard out of him since Hogwarts days. It makes her ache to her very bones. She blinks demurely and adds more sugar to her cup.

When he finally realizes she is serious, he turns a dangerous shade of purple.

Narcissa thinks it would look lovely in the third floor drawing room.

"Explain yourself," he hisses.

"Molly Weasley has been perfectly kind to me ever since we started owling each other last fall. She sends me more consistent news of Andromeda and of dear Nymphadora, though Andromeda still refuses my owls. I lived through an entire war on the wrong side, Lucius, and almost had to sacrifice my unborn son to a beast of a man. Molly doesn't judge me for any of it. I've longed for a daughter all my life, and you refused me. After Draco's difficult delivery, it's clear I'll never have one that will share my blood. But I've found one in Aveline, and Molly has her Ginevra. She went through childbirth _six_ times besides in an effort to have that little girl. I refuse to take part in a scheme that will end in the child's demise and the rise of the foul creature I was glad to see gone for good."

Lucius has faded from purple to chalk white. "Cissa-"

Narcissa turns the full force of her icy glare upon her husband. For too long, she let him play his little Dark games. No longer. Narcissa may now be a Malfoy, but she has _always_ been a Black. People have forgotten what that means.

"Do _not_ scold me, Lucius Abraxas Malfoy. Do you understand? I've taken a backseat role in our family, in our investments, in our social circles, and in our _politics_ for far too long. There is nothing a mother is not prepared to do for her son. Draco is tied to Harry. Harry is tied to Aveline. If anything happens to them, the others go with them."

"Ah, yes. Well, I've been doing a bit of research with your beloved cousin, my dear wife. It would seem that there _are_ loopholes to that particular… tie."

Narcissa raises one eyebrow.

Lucius rushes to continue. Most people would not notice his haste, but Narcissa knows Lucius. He is nervous. "When Potter-"

" _Harry._ The boy's name is Harry."

"Fine, you insufferable woman! When _Harry_ faced Quirrel and the Dark Lord several weeks ago, I naturally inquired with Sirius about the health of our son's entire trio. He said Poppy had to give Draco a Calming Draught and a headache potion, but otherwise he was fine. Aveline had been vomiting _blood_ , but when Poppy ran diagnostic spells, she could find _no_ internal injury. Po- er, ah, I mean to say _Harry_ , however, almost died. All of his organs showed signs of severe magical strain. So you see, we were naturally curious as to how this could be if they supposedly share a link. As it would turn out, their _bodies_ are not linked. If one is injured, they will feel the phantom pain in their own bodies. They will produce _symptoms_ akin to what their… _mates_ … are experiencing, but their bodies remain intact. If one of their souls passes on to the next world, _then_ it is common for the others to follow, except in rare cases of soul magic outside of the established mate bond. Which this diary business most certainly is. Therefore, if Harry dies in battle with the Dark Lord, there is a definite chance of Aveline and Draco surviving. Aveline would likely be worse off than Draco, admittedly, due to her blood link to Voldemort, but the Black bond should see her living soundly in the end."

Narcissa contemplates this for several long moments. She takes her time. In fact, she eats an entire croissant.

Then she says, "And what are their chances of surviving your Dark Lord?"

Lucius opens his mouth to answer, but Narcissa cuts him off. "That was a rhetorical question, husband. They may survive, but if Harry dies, they'll never _live_. I'm siding with the Light. My decision is final."

Lucius stares at her. She knows that he could go either way in this. She'll react the same, no matter what his decision.

Finally, he sighs. "Alright. Alright, Narcissa. We'll turn. _However;_ the diary must be placed. I cannot help this. We cannot afford to leave ourselves vulnerable. For now, it is wiser to continue playing both sides. You forget that Aveline herself must one day make this decision. As much as we would both like to predict otherwise, she very well may side with her father."

"The diary must be placed. But not with Ginevra Weasley. Not with her."

"No. Not with Ginevra. The Dark Lord specified the blood traitor Weasleys specifically; however it appears that I must find someone else."

Narcissa smiles.

* * *

"I want you to know I would rather gauge out my eyes than be here across from you," Severus sneers, rather maturely he thinks.

"Always a pleasure, Snape," Lupin snorts. "Fancy a drink?"

"I most certainly do not." Severus hovers, because it is what he is good at. It makes everyone uncomfortable, which gives him a decided edge.

Lupin, however, doesn't seem to be overly interested in this particular tactic. He looks up at him rather exhaustedly from the bar chair he is occupying in the shadiest corner of the Leaky. "Have a seat, then, if you insist on putting yourself through the misery of my company. Conserve your strength."

Severus swears he sees the ghost of Lupin's adolescent smirk, but then it is gone and Severus deduces he is being paranoid. ( _Petty_ is certainly not the word.)

Severus sits rather stiffly. He hesitates only a moment more before deciding he might as well get it over with quickly. Aveline will never know the torment he endures for her on a regular basis, and he would prefer nosy bar patrons not either. "I'm here because I have a…. proposal."

Lupin does not look up from his glass. "No, Severus, I will not accept you as an indentured servant in exchange for lessons in how to become a bat Animagus."

Severus jerks away, thoroughly angered. This is for his _child._ If this bumbling fool will not give him the time of day, well, there are _other-_

"Wait! Wait. I apologize. It appears I've been spending far too much time with Sirius. We're both a little… antsy. A kind _Orderly_ fellow named Kingsley has been helping us for years now with the search for Pettigrew. There have been no leads. We've had to review and reevaluate everything from the past two decades in the last two weeks. It tends to bring up… sore spots, you see."

Severus glances down into the exhausted and rueful eyes of Lupin, and sighs heavily through his nose.

 _This_ is precisely why he never wanted children.

"Alright, Lupin. One more sniffling wisecrack, however-"

There it is. That ghost of a smirk. "Of course not, professor."

Severus debates walking away again, and then settles for narrowing his eyes. He also lowers his voice. "I'm here about Aveline."

Lupin raises his eyebrows. "Your niece?"

Severus has too much and too little to say to that, so he remains silent.

Lupin slowly shoves his glass away. "What about her?"

"She is in a delicate position," Severus says too quickly. He looks away from Lupin entirely, eyes settling on the old bartender. _Weak_. "I believe that she and her social Circle would be well served by extra lessons."

Lupin studies Severus very carefully. Severus always loathed Lupin especially. A smart troublemaker is far more dangerous than any other. Lupin has always been dangerous. It is not pleasing, being under his scrutiny.

"What areas, particularly, do they need extra study material for?" Lupin asks this casually. It is not a casual question.

"Advanced Light spells. I myself will conduct…tutelage… in Defensive and, er, _Offensive_ spells."

Lupin blinks. " _Offensive_."

"Indeed. As I said; a rather _delicate_ situation."

Lupin now looks worried, thoughts no doubt centered on Harry Potter. All thoughts seem to be centered on the child at all times. That is why Severus avoids the sun. He's terrified one day he'll look up to see Potter's face reflected there, everything revolving around it.

" _All_ of them find themselves in such a delicate… _situation_?"

"It is my belief _as an instructor_ that if they do not necessarily struggle within these capacities now, they most certainly will _eventually_ ," Severus snaps.

Lupin nods slowly. "Alright. Alright. I'll discuss it with Sirius. Then, I suppose, we'll begin immediately."

Severus debates leaving. He does not. "One more thing, Lupin. Dumbledore wishes me to… offer you something. On his behalf. Apparently his time is in such high demand he can't even be bothered to send a formal letter."

"Oh?"

"He wishes to offer you a Defense Against the Dark Arts position."

Severus does not know whether to thank him or hex him when he turns it down.

* * *

"Everything would be so much simpler if Potter were still with those damned Muggles," Lucius hisses under his breath while combing the Malfoy library, looking for alternative blood traitor families to leave the journal with. The journal pulses angry and black in the back of his mind, in his chest.

He sneers at the house elf cowering in the corner, the house elf that has received the brunt of his frustrations.

The Darkness seeps into Lucius's mind. Lucius cannot fight it. Only the love of his wife and family keeps him here. Barely.

Lucius looks at Dobby. "Dispose of him for a while, won't you?" With no pesky emotional ties, Lucius will have a much more peaceful time researching. Hopefully.

The ancient elf magic falls into place, and Dobby wails, and Dobby tries to disobey and Dobby tries to punish himself for disobeying, but in the end Dobby does as he is told.

* * *

The night before his 12th birthday, Harry Potter has a strange dream that a small wrinkly creature with large ears Apparates into his bedroom.

The morning of his 12th birthday, Harry Potter wakes up in the cupboard under the stairs, in the home of Petunia and Vernon Dursley.

* * *

When Sirius Black wakes on the morning of his godson's 12th birthday, all is well.

Sirius makes pancakes in the shape of does, stags, wolves, and Grims, as is tradition on Harry's birthday, and proceeds to carry them to Harry's room. The flat is feeling rather small these days; he'll have to either move or cast an Extension charm soon, and the permits for those are always such a hassle to get, with or without Ministry sway.

Sirius opens the door to his godson's room and finds it empty.

Everything after that is rather a blur.

* * *

Aveline and Draco wake up screaming.

Aveline had spent the night at the Manor, to help prepare for Harry's birthday. Narcissa had finally agreed to build a Quidditch pitch on the Manor grounds. Draco has improved leaps and bounds ever since, rivaling Harry in flight ability, and the Circle had planned a surprise game to celebrate Harry's birthday.

Aveline rolls out of her cool green bed, hitting the cold hard floor, and nearly collides with Draco in the hallway.

His gray eyes are wild, his hair and fingertips sparking at the edges. "What's happening? Where is he?!"

"I don't know! He's too panicked, I can't get a clear view-"

It is then that Sirius Black arrives, and all hell breaks loose.

* * *

Harry is feeling very small. This feeling matches his cupboard, so that is quite alright. He is listening to the Dursleys preen before their guests arrive. They have no idea he is in his cupboard. It is almost like Before, but now it is most certainly After.

Draco and Aveline's links are blocked from him. The wicked little creature that brought him here has done something to his cupboard, to his mind. No one can hear him, inside or out.

The best Harry can do is try to push what images he can through, and hope that one of them figures it out soon.

And here he'd been worried that none of his friends received his birthday party invitations.

"Bubble, bubble, toil and trouble…" Harry hums under his breath. And he waits.

* * *

Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Narcissa Malfoy -a rather unlikely entourage to be sure- all lunge out of the Floo that they have (somewhat illegally) commandeered in the Dursley household.

Sirius, always with a certain flare for dramatics, takes one look at Lily's sister, whom he hasn't seen since arriving for his godson all those years ago, and snarls so loudly she screeches. "WHERE IS MY GODSON?!"

Vernon is busy yelling at everyone to exit his home immediately before he phones for the police, and the other Muggles present are occupied by being Obliviated by Narcissa, so no one but Lupin can hear a small voice under the stairs, humming through a set of non-human magical wards.

Lupin's eyes flash gold; he rips the small door off its hinges, and out tumbles one Harry Potter, very hungry and slightly unhinged, but otherwise unharmed.

Sirius, catching the Dursley boy trying to eat the cake left unattended in the kitchen, snatches it off the table and hurls it at Petunia's head.

It flies into her face with a satisfying _squish_ , and the wizards and witch are gone as quickly as they arrived.

* * *

It is decided that Dumbledore need not know any of what occurred or will occur, so long as they themselves can handle it.

No one is quite certain whose house elf took Harry to the cupboard. No one but Narcissa notices the guilt on Lucius's face.

For now, she will say nothing.

* * *

After several hours of being reassured by Sirius and Remus, Harry finally recovers enough to consume a feast fit for Gryffindor himself and a table full of sweets. He manages one game of Quidditch, and then falls asleep next to his soul mates.

Draco, entirely bewildered, files away the happenings of the day somewhere in the back of his mind to peruse later.

Aveline, entirely infuriated, plots.


	10. Chapter 10

Remus smiles at them from across his desk. Aveline notices that he looks tired, and his eyes keep skittering back to the letters and memos scattered across his desk, including one featuring nine overnight Ministry raids. The name _Kingsley_ is scrawled across the bottom of most of them. She notices other names as well, names recognizable from old newspaper scraps filed away in the Restricted section of Hogwarts, names recognizable from the lists and lists of Purebloods, blood traitors, and her father's old followers found in Ciaran; _Lestrange, Pettigrew, Malfoy, Black, Weasley, Yaxley, Carrow, Anderson, Crowle, McKinnon-_

What are they looking for? They cannot change the past. The present is theirs, for now, but Aveline is beginning to understand that the future belongs more and more to her.

"Do you know why I called the four of you in here today?" Remus asks.

Aveline, Draco, Harry, and Hermione all glance at each other. Hermione is at a distinct disadvantage; the others can share one mind. Still, they all shrug.

Remus's smile grows. His eyes linger on Hermione. "Miss Granger, perhaps you could be as kind as to describe a Dementor for me?"

Hermione's eyes grow wide.

Aveline remembers cold, a chill deep inside of her bones, remembers feeling numb. Inside Draco's mind is the memory of chains rattling and a woman screaming _is that the little bitch_ ; Aveline sees her dark eyes, the eyes of the madwoman that knew who she was-

 _No._ Harry still is not aware. She cannot tell Harry.

Aveline slams her mental blocks down tight, but not before glancing at Draco apologetically. He hates to be left alone with the worst of it.

"We know what Dementors are, sir," Harry intervenes. His green eyes are cunning, questioning, searching her own. Aveline looks away. She is ashamed. Draco now apparently knows her worst secret, while Harry does not. Is this the only secret she will share with one and hide from the other?

Remus's eyebrows rise. "Oh. Well, then. That makes this significantly easier. Now, seeing as you know what Dementors are, you must also inherently realize that these are very Dark creatures indeed. It is unlikely that you are ever to encounter one, at least in the context of a battle. However, this particular spell, while often used to counter Dementor attacks, is useful in many contexts."

Remus guides them from his humble office, through his cottage, and outside to his ample yard. Aveline observes the details curiously. She's rarely visited Remus Lupin's cottage, and then often in the evening. The cottage itself is small, sturdy, made of stone. It is surrounded by fantastic landscaping, courtesy of herself and her Earth elemental powers, though Lupin doesn't quite know that tidbit. Sirius had found the place for him about a year ago, after he was evicted from his last flat.

The flowers she had nurtured sway and flow in the breeze. Remus is an interesting creature; Aveline doesn't know how she knows this, but she can feel it. He is a werewolf. As such, she had planted plenty of wildflowers, things that grow naturally and appeal to the senses; bright colors and thick roots that he won't be able to pull out when he roams as the wolf.

She had asked Sirius about him, and Sirius had confirmed it, reluctantly. That is when Sirius had explained how the Marauders had taken it upon themselves to become Animagi.

She had debated for a while, and then shared the information with Harry and Draco. Harry hadn't had an issue with his surrogate uncle's condition, but even now Draco eyes him warily. Aveline hopes Remus doesn't take it personally when he finds out they know what he is. Draco is wary of everyone.

"Now, children, this is the wand movement, and then the spell. It's much easier to demonstrate than explain." Remus waves his wand. " _Expecto Patronum!"_

From the tip of his wand bursts a silver stream of light. The light slowly takes form, sparkling and glistening in the sunny daylight. A wolf runs around them, nosing them playfully. Hermione seems to be fascinated. Draco tries not to flinch.

"We're going to learn _that_?!" Harry asks delightedly.

Remus grins. "Well, you're certainly going to try. I don't expect any of you to get it right off. This is a bit of a long-term project for us all. This is a very advanced spell, alright? It will serve nicely as your introduction to further advanced spellwork."

In the end, Harry manages a small cloudy whisp. Hermione comes up with nothing, but Remus assures her that her form is fantastic. Draco manages silvery sparks. Aveline watches, and waits, and when she tries, she comes up with a small stream of white light.

* * *

Hermione wakes to a sound that is immediately odd, given her current setting. Beathan is a beautiful home, full of warm wood and neutral colors, harsh metal contrasted against soft fabrics. She's nestled under a guest room bedspread, softer than anything she's ever felt before in her life. Apparently, Draco Malfoy's mother had picked it out. Aveline says she has very decent taste, and Hermione is inclined to agree.

Hermione reluctantly removes her arm from the warmth of the bed, snatching blindly at the bedside table. Her wand is there, along with her new sunglasses and her watch. Her eyes sting from the dim light of the watch; nearly one in the morning. Aveline had gone to bed early, claiming exhaustion from all the swimming they'd done yesterday. Hermione, not entirely keen on staying up late with her Potions professor, had quickly followed.

The sound happens again. It is almost like the crackling of a fire, a very large one, only there is the sound of wind and… is that _rain?_ as well.

Curious, Hermione dresses quickly and sneaks down the stairs. There is no one in the kitchen, but there is definitely a fire outside. Light refracts through the windows, brighter than day. The sound of wind and water is louder now as well, but she can't see it yet.

Hermione goes to one of the back doors and slips through it to the courtyard.

What she sees makes no sense.

Aveline stands in her nightgown in the middle of the courtyard with her hands outstretched. Directly in front of her stands a wall of flame higher than the house; water swirls around it in spirals, a separate whirlpool dangerously close to extinguishing it. Wind whips through the courtyard, threatening to topple the whole impossible construct, but beyond the courtyard the leaves on the trees are still.

Professor Snape stands next to her, not moving or speaking, but watching her.

After a moment of observing Aveline's shaking shoulders, her sweat-drenched hair, Professor Snape hisses, "Now earth."

Aveline flinches. Hermione watches with baited breath, but nothing happens.

Professor Snape waits, then hisses again, "I said, _earth._ "

Aveline makes a strangled noise, but sure enough, the entire wall of fire and whirlpool of water begins to rise higher. The ground trembles slightly as a slab of earth rises toward the sky. Hermione bends her head back to watch; the wind increases dramatically once it escapes the confines of the walls of the courtyard.

Once the fire-wall escapes as well, the wind proves to be too large a factor. The flame is extinguished by the water in a fury of smoke and steam, and the earth slides back into place. The only evidence it moved at all is a thin line that forms a square.

Hermione watches, openmouthed, as the singed grass returns to its former green glory.

Aveline growls in frustration and turns away. When she does, Hermione takes notice of the many markings now littering her body; black marks swirl _underneath_ her skin, unnatural and breathtaking. Professor Snape is already trying to encourage her to try again when they both whirl around and finally notice Hermione.

Hermione's blood runs cold. This explains everything. Aveline is _not_ entirely human because she is entirely elemental. Hermione has only ever read elemental theory; it is supposed to be hypothetical. It is not unheard of to possess one elemental power, but that was long ago, in the time of the Druids; before that, there were isolated cases in Egypt.

There is a single moment where time seems to freeze, and then everything happens very quickly. Aveline gasps, the first time Hermione has seen her look truly shocked. "Hermione!"

Professor Snape's hand moves for his wand and Hermione does not stay. She knows she saw something she shouldn't. Hermione turns and runs back through the house. Her mind rapidly fires possible solutions. What can a twelve year old witch do to combat the protective forces of a middle-aged wizard? There are no neighbors here; her parents cannot get to her. She cannot Apparate yet, and if she tries she will likely Splinch herself.

Behind her, she can hear Professor Snape chasing her and Aveline begging him for something-

"Aveline, we must. You have to be _rational_ -"

"Severus, please, it could damage her, and you know it could. She's too young-"

"Nothing is paramount to your safety, Aveline. This is not a compromise-"

"Severus, you _mustn't_ \- I trust her, I do-"

A spell hits her, and Hermione feels a pressure in her head that is unlike anything she's felt before. The pressure builds and builds. She falls, twisting onto her back on the floor. Professor Snape hovers above her, grim and tired, but entirely determined.

Black eyes meet brown, and the pressure in her head explodes.

" _Look, Hermione! Grandma got you a Christmas puzzle-"_

" _I'm sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Granger, but there's nothing we can do. No teacher or administrator saw the bullying occur-"_

 _A boy with dark hair and green eyes. A lightning scar._

 _A boy with red hair that shocks her. Blue eyes. Sneers, and then proud smiles._

 _A girl that is unlike any other. Dark hair, strange eyes. Strange charm. Strange intelligence. Strange._

 _Miss Hermione Granger, we are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry-_

" _Hermione, smile for the camera! Smile for Mummy! Oh no, Rob, the tide is coming in! Oh this is going to be so funny when it's developed."_

 _A Potions professor, harsh but fair. Tall, dark, sneering._

Memories, people, places, fragments of things she has heard people say over the course of her life fly in front of her eyes. Hermione is confused, and then she is pulled somewhere else.

" _Leave me the hell alone, woman, I told you I'd get another job when I damn well feel like it-"_

" _I won't raise this boy to be a mutant like you-"_

 _A girl with red hair and green, green eyes._

 _A man with cuts and scrapes and bottles._

 _A woman with tired eyes and a hooked nose._

" _Hey there, Snivellus. Have a nice holiday? Ask for more grease in your stocking?"_

 _A wolf. Snarling. Anger that burns._

 _A man that is more of a beast with slits where nostrils should be and dark hair. Flashes of spells and hexes. Chaos._

 _A woman. Red hair. She's on the ground and there are babies crying somewhere-_

Hermione feels almost as though she has been shoved, but her body is still lying on the ground. She scrambles mentally for purchase, grasping at what she knows to be true. She is Hermione Granger, she is the best friend of Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley, and she is now good friends with Aveline Enigme. She is in Aveline's home. She has seen something she is not supposed to have seen.

Now she must pay the price.

Panting, Hermione blinks dazedly.

Professor Snape is staring down at her with something akin to awe.

Alright. Not what she expected. Still, she might as well use this time to plead her case. "Sir, I'm so sorry to intrude! The noise woke me, and I wanted to make sure nothing was wrong. I won't tell anyone what I saw. Though, to be fair, I've suspected something was different about Aveline for a while. Which is fine really, I'm used to different. Formerly, I was considered quite different myself, see-"

Professor Snape cuts her off. "Miss Granger. Do you have any idea of the severity of what just occurred?"

"Well, sir, Elemental powers are very rare, but not unheard of. You're very fortunate to have such amazing power run in your family, sir-"

She thinks she sees Snape flinch, but she isn't certain.

Still, he cuts her off. "That is not what I was referring to, though I do trust you will keep such matters to yourself. Otherwise, I shall have to react rather unpleasantly and Obliviate you myself, regardless of the age restrictions. There are people that would take advantage of Aveline if they knew. Do you understand?"

Snape waits until she nods to continue. "Miss Granger, do you realize that you are a natural Legilimens?"

Behind him, Hermione watches as Aveline's nervous eyes grow pleased.

"Sorry, sir- I'm a _what_?"

* * *

"Check this out," Theo says, nose crinkled in Blaise's general direction. Zonko's is always busy this time of year, and today is no exception. Hogwarts students of all ages tend to make Zonko's their focal meeting point, tired parents trying in vain to corral them.

Blaise has his eyes on his mother; several weeks ago, she and Sirius Black had a series of conversations over tea while he and Harry hung out. After those conversations, she had started cozying up to Theo's father. As far as his mother's consorts go, Theo's father is not all bad, if a touch on the older side. Thaddeus Nott had considered associating with Blaise to be good for Theo, as Blaise had been 'properly sorted'.

Still, he can't help but suspect that something deeper is happening.

"Just don't pay any attention to them," Theo mutters, putting the Nauseating Flatulence Cushion back on the shelf.

"Is it time to go look for the others?"

Theo looks around the crowded shop for a clock. "Yes, I suppose so. Where were we supposed to meet? Flourish?"

Blaise and Theo make their way to their respective parents. Seeming relieved to leave the wild Zonko's scene, Thaddeus and Chiara quickly maneuver Diagon and usher the boys into the bookstore.

"Here," Thaddeus grunts and tosses enough money at both boys to buy much more than their school books.

"Here, children, come," Augusta says upon spotting them. She grits her teeth when their parents Apparate away immediately.

"Hello, Neville. Hello, Luna," Blaise greets and smiles widely at her. Luna stares back at him with wide blue eyes; a faint blush crawls up her cheekbones.

"Luna is feeling a bit shy today," Neville says, and Theo watches in astonishment as he takes half a step in front of the girl as though to shield her from Blaise's mischievous influence.

"It's Luna's first year at Hogwarts, Blaise Zabini, so don't go filling her head with your nonsense," August butts into the conversation, leading them further and further into the store.

Hermione is already there, along with all the Weasleys. Mr. Weasley waves at them, trying to keep his brood under control while their mother frets over book prices. Theo touches the gold in his pocket rather guiltily.

Hermione's parents stand next to Arthur, seeming slightly lost but very enthusiastic. Her mother is slim, with brown hair and Hermione's lips. Her father wears glasses and his black hair curls away from his head in all directions. Ah, so that's where she gets it!

"Where's Draco, Harry, and Aveline?" Theo asks the general crowd. Together, the group takes up more than half of the cluttered store.

"They'll likely be here any minute," Hermione calls.

They can't hear the door of the store open when it does, but at last there arrives Sirius Black and Severus Snape, bickering back and forth while Remus Lupin follows, delegated to hold all shopping bags. The Malfoys file in afterward, and quickly retreat to a quieter portion on the second level of the store.

"I told you that the cat doesn't need any more treats, Black-"

"And I told you that it was Aveline's sickles, that I gave to her, and if she wants to purchase treats for Jinx then-"

Molly Weasley's sharp eyes catch the argument immediately. "Hello everyone," she calls, waving obnoxiously in an effort to break it up. Lupin gives her a hassled wave back, trying to control the shopping bags. "We're over here!"

Aveline shifts closer to Severus. He places a hand on her shoulder to guide her. Unease flitters through her stomach. There are too many people in this store; she is still so unused to crowds.

"Are you alright?" Severus murmurs.

She doesn't get a chance to answer. Suddenly Gilderoy Lockhart appears. Within moments, his blue eyes sweep over the crowd and pick out Harry. Harry is shoved in front of the crowd, handed books he doesn't need.

Draco had went to the second floor with his parents. She feels his irritation and Harry's embarrassment. There are too many unfamiliar faces and uncomfortable emotions within her; everyone's bodies are so close together, and through Harry, she feels them all staring at _her_. Aveline imagines them falling, crushing her underneath their combined weight.

Tears sting her eyes. "Severus," she pleads, turning as best as she can to look up at him.

He is confused until he slips into her mind. Then his lips thin.

"Come," he demands, none too gently maneuvering around others. The crowd appears to thin near the door. Draco has felt her discomfort and irrational fear. He and his parents try to reach her through the crowd lining the edge of the stairs.

Aveline still feels eyes on her until she glances over and there stands the Goyle family. Mr. Goyle appears unhappy to see the Malfoys, but he grants them a courteous nod. His son glares at Aveline with a hatred she didn't know he had the capacity to possess.

Her heart rate quickens. Her palms start to sweat. All in all, she's quite irritated with herself.

Through her link with Harry, she notices Arthur Weasley, several of his children, and Sirius Black are behind her. He had noticed something wrong and tried with Sirius to get Harry out of the limelight as soon as possible. Arthur carries several books belonging to his own children while Sirius is trying to wrangle the heavy set given to Harry.

Everything after that happens very quickly. The Malfoys say something to the Goyles. The Goyles hurl insults in return not to the Malfoys, but to Arthur and Sirius. Arthur tries and fails to prevent Sirius from returning the insults. Lupin arrives on the scene with Molly, the other adults, and the rest of the children, all trying to escape the sweltering store at once and entirely unaware of the tense situation at hand. Sirius is knocked into Arthur, who falls at the foot of the stairs, tripping Lucius as he tries to approach the Goyles. Lucius falls into the family, sending them crashing into Molly, Ginny, Hermione, and Harry. Aveline's stomach clenches as Harry falls to the floor.

Books fly into the air. It is impossible to tell which copies belong to whom. There is a mad scramble, many swears, and helping hands as everyone gets to their feet.

Aveline sways next to Severus. He removes her from the store immediately in the chaos.

"It's alright, Aveline," he comforts her. To anyone else, Severus Snape holding a child on the sidewalk might seem ridiculous. Aveline is only grateful.

"What's wrong with me?" she gasps, angry at herself for forgetting her place, forgetting who she is.

"Nothing is wrong with you. You seem to be afraid of tight spaces. It's perfectly natural; it even has a name. It's called _claustrophobia_."

He doesn't ask her to, but Aveline repeats the strange word back to him. " _Claustrophobia."_

 _What a stupid thing to be afraid of_ , she thinks.

Severus guides her toward Fortescue's in an effort to take her mind off of it. Aveline puts up thin mental blocks, a clear sign to her soul mates to stay out of her head unless needed. She needs a moment to think over this new bizarre fear.

This is how she misses Ginny and Luna's conversation. They exit the store, still patting their pockets to make sure they didn't lose anything in the hassle. Their words are a faint background noise in Harry's ears, and therefore might as well be unspoken.

"Did you mean to grab that? That old journal?" Luna asks uncertainly, pointing to the extra book stored away in Ginny's new cauldron.

"Erm," Ginny hesitates. She hadn't meant to grab anything that wasn't hers. Lucius had been holding a journal similar to this when she fell. She had assumed it was for Draco. Lots of Pureblood families asked their children to keep journals for future generations to peruse. She'd assumed that Lucius had asked Draco to start earlier than usual.

Ginny scans the crowd. Draco is already down the street with his mother, but she can see the books in his own hands. He's holding all of his school books, and a brand new leather journal.

"I'm not sure where it came from," Ginny says uncertainly. It doesn't look like anything the store might have sold. There is no price tag anywhere.

Luna shrugs. "That was a real mess in there, Gin. I wouldn't worry about it. Obviously no one is looking for it. Perhaps it was a gift from the spaddergooks, that shop was absolutely full of them…"

Lucius Malfoy hastily but politely excuses himself from further conversation with the Grangers. He barely understands a word they say. Something about public transportation, a _metro_?

His wife catches him by the elbow on the way to the apothecary. It is their last stop.

"Where did it go?"

"With the Goyle boy. I'm certain. He was carrying a black journal on the way out."

Narcissa's eyes widen. "The Goyles? They were not disloyal, Lucius. They're not traitors!"

Lucius scoffs. "The only people the Goyles serve are the Goyles. I have enough financial proof of that to show the Lord upon his return. They'll do."

Narcissa seems as though she wants to say more, but it is too risky in public. Besides, the journal didn't end up with Ginevra. That is all she had really cared about.

Lucius ignores the small uncertainty that remains within him due to the lack of wear of the Goyle boy's journal.


	11. Chapter 11

Aveline watches as Mrs. Weasley disappears with Ginny through the concrete barrier. The girl had been nervous, checking and rechecking her bags all morning, clutching an old book to her chest that she had almost forgotten earlier.

"Our turn," Draco mutters. He's irritated because the Malfoys elected the Weasleys to take the children to the barrier; something about Ministry business to attend to. Aveline, Draco, and Harry had said their goodbyes to the Malfoys and Sirius this morning before Flooing to the Burrow.

Harry begins to run toward the barrier, pushing Hedwig in his cart. Aveline makes sure Isis is secure before doing the same. She hears Draco start off after her.

She doesn't have time to stop when Harry's cart crashes into the very solid barrier. He goes flying, and she feels the dull ache in his ribs as he hits the ground before her own cart crashes into his. She lands ungracefully next to him, her elbow scraping the concrete. Blood wells up underneath her skin. Draco curses, barely managing to stop his own cart in time.

"Hey, you kids! Be more careful. Watch where you're going. No running-" a Muggle security guard rants at them as they pick themselves up. Hedwig and Isis's feathers fly through the air.

"Sorry, sir," Harry murmurs, avoiding all eye contact.

 _Now what?_ Draco asks mentally.

 _Now I send a note to Severus, and we wait. Anyone fancy a hotdog?_

"Oi! What happened-?"

"-To you lot?"

The three turn to see Fred and George running up, one of Ginny's extra forgotten bags in tow.

"The barrier's been closed. We're going to write a note to Severus. He'll return for us and escort us to Hogwarts."

The twins share a look that is decidedly mischievous. "You mean, he'll escort-"

"- _You three._ "

* * *

Ginny is safely at the Gryffindor table, shyly seated next to Ron, and Luna is at Ravenclaw's being welcomed by Theo when the crash sounds outside the castle.

The teachers stand in alarm. Dumbledore raises one white eyebrow.

"Ten sickles they hit the Willow," Aveline says quietly, laughing eyes on Draco and Blaise.

"Ten sickles they hit Hagrid's hut," Draco returns.

Blaise glances at Severus's red face. "Ten sickles Snape's head explodes!"

* * *

 _FRED AND GEORGE WEASLEY! HOW_ DARE _YOU STEAL THAT CAR! I AM ABSOLUTELY_ DISGUSTED! _YOUR FATHER'S NOW FACING AN INQUIRY AT WORK AND IT'S_ ENTIRELY _YOUR FAULT! IF YOU PUT_ ANOTHER _TOE OUT OF LINE WE'LL BRING YOU BOTH STRAIGHT_ HOME! _— Oh, and Ginny dear, congratulations on making Gryffindor. Your father and I are_ so _proud._

Mrs. Weasley's voice fades from the Great Hall.

Harry grins at a flabbergasted Fred and George across the table. In all their Hogwarts careers, they've never actually received a Howler for any of their pranks.

"Bacon?" Harry asks.

* * *

Harry bursts through Aveline and Draco's mental links with all the subtlety of a bull.

 _You don't even want to know what we're studying in Herbology. Also, look out for a boy named Colin, he's taking creepy photos of_ _ **everyone.**_

* * *

After they're through taking Gilderoy Lockhart's absurd quiz, Ron and Harry pass several notes back and forth. Really, they're trying their hardest to avoid the strange dialogue between Hermione and Lockhart.

 _When should the first Circle meeting be?_ Ron writes first. Harry thinks it strange that after his official acceptance into the larger group, Ron's usually the most eager to meet with the others. Perhaps it is something his brothers do not have that he does?

 _I dunno, that's usually Aveline's thing,_ Harry writes back distractedly.

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry sees Ron hesitate before writing. Dread pools in Harry's stomach.

 _Who is she, anyway? Like, Snape's not actually her father right? She calls him Severus._

Anger floods through Harry. Who is Ron to question his soul mate? _That's her business, Ron. Don't ask about that. It makes her upset._

 _Makes her upset or you?_

Harry doesn't have time to write back. Lockhart has unleashed a horde of pixies. Neville is being dangled by his ears.

He doesn't have time to question why his anger felt so much like fear.

* * *

Harry grabs the Nimbus Two Thousand that had been a late birthday present from Sirius. After the Cupboard Fiasco (which is what the as-yet-unsolved incident had come to be referred as), his godfather had felt horribly. Harry had insisted it wasn't necessary, but he can't help but feel pride, carrying it onto the field at the crack of dawn.

Harry attempts to dodge Colin, who is wide eyed and enthusiastically creating snapshots even this early, several times, but cannot. Harry ends up explaining the entire game of Quidditch all the way down to the field.

"Who's that taking pictures in the stands, Harry?" Fred asks curiously. He tugs at this uniform and yawns.

"No clue," Harry lies, and is about to kick off into the air when George shouts.

"Hey! Wood, the Slytherins have come to call!"

Wood curses and turns. Indeed, there is the entire Slytherin team, silver accents glinting in the dawn's light. Harry scans his eyes over them, confused by the tugging in his chest.

Then he spots him. _Draco._ Draco is standing there, in Slytherin Quidditch robes, holding a brand new broom and looking immensely guilty.

The link opens wide under Harry's astonishment.

 _Don't be angry. I couldn't think of a good way to tell you_ , Draco thinks desperately. _Aveline doesn't even know yet._

Harry notices Colin coming down from the stands, accompanied by Ron and Hermione, who had apparently risen early to watch the practice.

"What's happening?" Hermione calls.

"Draco is the new Seeker for Slytherin," Harry growls, still staring.

Ron's mouth drops open in indignation.

"Perhaps the Gryffindor team could donate their own brooms to a museum," Flint snickers. The Slytherin team howls with laughter behind him. Draco's conflicting emotions flicker through Harry.

Through the link, they can both feel Aveline rousing from her sleep in all the commotion.

"At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to have new brooms in order to compete," Hermione shoots back, stepping up to stand next to Harry. "They get by on pure talent."

Wood looks down at her in something like astonishment, but doesn't say anything.

Slytherin team shouts in rage at her all at once. Harry registers Hermione's face, stern and disapproving until someone in the crowd shouts "Filthy Mudblood!"

Hermione's face goes white. Oliver dives for Flint. Fred and George go for Draco in the confusion, as he's the closest; Fred lands a punch to Draco's nose. Alicia Spinnet shouts _"How dare you!_ " and goes for her wand but Ron gets there first.

There is a loud bang and a jet of green light.

Then Ron is vomiting slugs and Colin is taking more pictures. Harry sighs.

"Come on, then. Best get him to Hagrid's."

* * *

Aveline listens in rapt stillness as Draco relates the events of the morning to her and Blaise. He had returned to the Slytherin dorms sporting a large bruise courtesy of the Weasley twins.

"Honestly, why would I call Hermione that? We're friends!" Draco seethes.

Blaise is about to answer when Aveline cuts him off. "Would you ever call anyone that?"

Draco doesn't seem to know what to say. He stares at her broodingly, silver eyes turned a strange teal in the light from the lake.

Tracey glances between the two of them. "I don't understand. _Mudblood_? What's it mean? It sounds kind of silly."

Aveline starts. She had forgotten that not every second-year had spent the previous year combatting Voldemort and researching his First Blood War.

"It's a foul word for someone that isn't a Pureblood. It means dirty blood, common blood. It's about the worst thing they could have called Hermione," Blaise explains.

Aveline watches her friend's face. Tracey looks horrified as she connects the dots. "But-"

Sophie cuts her off. She's filing her nails, appearing bored with the conversation in its entirety. "Oh, so someone called her a name. But it's not as if it's untrue, is it? Her parents are Muggles. I myself have nothing against them of course, but it's not as though I ever plan to mix with them either. Let them be all chummy with their own kind."

"But that's so similar to You-Know-Who," Tracy persists. Aveline freezes, eyes locked onto Draco. "And Father told me that You-Know-Who is gone, that he was evil but he is gone. He gave Slytherin a bad name, he said. Why would anyone still believe what he believed?"

Sophie glances up sharply, nail file going still. "Be careful, Tracy. _Gone for now_ doesn't mean _gone for good_."

Aveline cannot stand this anymore. She cannot.

She gets up and walks away, unaware of Blaise's sharp eyes on her retreating back.

* * *

" _You will both serve detention; Ronald, with Mr. Filch polishing trophies. Harry, Professor Lockhart requested you especially, to help answer his fanmail," McGonagall said primly._

" _Oh, no," Harry moaned. "Can't I clean trophies too?"_

" _No." McGonagall said with finality, but Hermione suspected amusement underneath her stern tone._

 _Hermione thought this all rather unfair. After the Quidditch pitch scuffle, her boys were being punished._

 _Meanwhile, she knew as she looked at Snape he would be letting the Slytherin team go with a warning. Even after someone had called her a racial slur!_

Hermione falls backward in her chair, panting.

Snape's lips twitch. "Interesting memory to distract me with, Miss Granger."

"It was unfair and painful to me," Hermione snaps. Suddenly she remembers herself and blushes scarlet. "Er, I mean, in my opinion. _Sir._ "

Snape is about to open his mouth to reply when Hermione thinks back to her lessons from the previous week. Snape had been encouraging her to practice counterattacks to his Legilimancy. That was, after all, what he had found her to be naturally gifted at.

" _Legilimens_!" she shouts.

She hears Snape gasp, and then she is elsewhere.

 _There are four boys; one tall and roguish with long dark hair, one with a dark mop of hair and glasses, one thin, lithe, covered in scars, and one short, fat, and entirely unremarkable._

 _Then there are five boys. They are dangling one above their heads._

" _Snivellus! Snivellus!" Blurry students chant._

 _Hermione's breath quickens._

" _Let's have a look at Snivelly's trousers!"_

 _Her heart is about to pound out of her ears. How many times has she faced this type of bullying herself?_

 _There is a flash of red, and then there is a girl. She is tall, slim, and beautiful. She has Harry's green eyes. They flash. "James! You ignorant toe rag!"_

" _I don't need help from a Mudblood!"_

She is thrown violently out of Snape's mind.

For a moment, they both simply pant. She stares into his eyes. He stares into hers.

"How dare you-" He snarls but she cuts him off.

"Cast the spell on me," she gasps. "Please. Sir, _please_."

He enters her mind wordlessly.

 _Hermione is seven. She sits and stares at a book far above her classmates' reading levels. They play around her, kicking up dirt as they toss a ball._

 _She hates the playground area. She would much rather be in the library. The day is cold, anyhow._

" _Look! The stranger Granger!" One kid shouts, pointing at her._

 _She winces. Not this again._

 _Soon they are all around her, invading her small space underneath the gym set. They aim the dirt they kick at her eyes, kickball forgotten. They claw at her jacket, removing it entirely so that she chills. They throw her book on the ground, ripping its pages._

 _And always, the chanting._

 _One boy shoves her so violently she falls into the side of the bench. Blood drips from her eyebrow._

 _The blood frightens them, the little cowards. They run, scattered in every direction. Hermione sniffles as she picks up her tattered book, her torn jacket._

 _The office patches up her admittedly shallow scrape. They call her parents._

 _Her father is outraged. Her mother is in tears._

 _"_ _I'm sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Granger, but there's nothing we can do. No teacher or administrator saw the bullying occur-"_

" _Occlumens_ ," Hermione mutters quietly, casting Snape out of her mind as gently as possible.

He stares at her wordlessly, astonished.

Slowly, he begins to straighten the items on his desk needlessly. Jinx the cat watches them from her place underneath his chair.

"Thank you," he says, pausing.

She nods.

"That will be all for this evening, Miss Granger."

He halts her as she reaches the door. She turns.

"I am sorry that happened to you, Hermione."

"I'm sorry too, sir. It shouldn't have happened to you either."

She turns and shuts the heavy door, soon enough that she doesn't see the damnable tears in his eyes.

* * *

Harry is quite envious of Ron, getting to polish all of those trophies. He is even envious of Hermione, who is apparently off doing extra Potions work with Snape, of all things.

He has managed to tune Lockhart out entirely when he hears it.

" _Come to me… Let me rip you… Let me tear you… Let me_ _ **kill**_ _you…"_

He is quite distressed, when he mentally recounts the story to Draco and Aveline that neither have ever heard of any invisible, homicidal voice.

* * *

"Honestly, compared to last Halloween, this one has rather been a dull affair," Theo shrugs, passing the mashed potatoes to Luna.

She had been one of the last to recover from the bout of colds that had been passed around. Theo recalled Ron being worried about Ginny at the last Circle meeting; she'd required two Pepper-Up Potions. What with all the steam, her hair had appeared as though on fire.

In Theo's opinion, the girl didn't seem any less pale, but it had pacified her brothers.

Luna, however, had been right as rain within the day.

As the feast ends, Theo and Luna are amongst the first to file out. After rounding several corners, they come upon Harry, Hermione, and Ron.

"Hello-" Luna calls, only for her cheery greeting to die in her throat.

Across the hall, from the opposite corner, round the Slytherins and Hufflepuffs. Theo watches carefully as Blaise, Aveline, and Draco push their way to the front of the crowd.

Luna's nails dig into his arm.

They are standing in a puddle of water several meters long. Mrs. Norris, Mr. Filch's cat, hangs from her tail. Next to her, painted in blood on the wall, are tall letters proclaiming:

 _THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED. ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE._

"Luna?" Theo prods.

"Yes, Theo?" she answers faintly.

"I take it back. This is not at all a dull Halloween."

* * *

The Circle sits in rapt attention, listening to Hermione, Ron, Harry, and Neville recount Professor Binns' description of the Chamber of Secrets.

"A _monster_!" Neville echoes tremulously. "Great. Just what we need after last year."

"But honestly, who is the heir of Slytherin?"

"Well, Justin Finch-Fletchley ran from me the other day. Said something about it being awfully convenient that I found Mrs. Norris," Harry mutters morosely.

Aveline wishes she could muster the energy to send him comforting vibes. Draco does instead, giving her a piercing look.

"Ginny is a right wreck over it all," Ron adds helpfully.

"Ginny? Why? Luna is a first year and she's handling it all swimmingly," Blaise praises. Luna shrugs, continuing to eat her pastry.

"She's a great cat lover," Ron shrugs. "I told her it would all be fine, but she's been crying for days over it all."

"Well, we'll just have to figure out who the Heir is," Theo says.

"Could you look into it?" Blaise asks.

"Maybe," Theo hesitates. "It's an awful lot to undertake alone. I have Advanced Arithmancy this term."

"I think it's time we officially induct Hermione," Aveline says.

Everyone stares at her.

"Why haven't we done that yet?" Neville demands.

* * *

"I cannot believe that you've all been skulking about the castle-"

"We don't _skulk_ -"

"The two of you, with all of them, _without me_! And _Aveline!_ I mean, she had me over this summer and everything, I would reckon-"

"Hermione, we're sorry. It's kind of Draco's idea anyway, and we've all been so busy this year that it slipped our minds. We've only met officially like twice, anyhow," Harry rambles.

Suddenly the three of them round the corner bearing the Chamber message. It is exactly as it had been that night.

"Might as well poke around," Harry shrugs.

Hermione finds spiders. Ron shirks away from them. Hermione tries not to laugh.

Harry is busy looking around. Something is wrong. It _isn't_ exactly as it had been; there had been _water_.

"Remember all that water? Where did it come from?"

Hermione pauses, then smiles at them both. "Have either of you ever met Moaning Myrtle?"

* * *

Draco is giving her that piercing stare again.

She snarls at him, quietly as they are still in the library, and slams her book shut.

" _What?_ "

 _Was it you_?

She slams her mental blocks down. How dare he ask her something so foul in such an intimate fashion?

"No," she hisses aloud.

 _You're the only true heir I know, Aveline. And people are starting to blame Harry._ Draco has been doing this lately, breaking through her barriers when she wishes otherwise. It is most irksome.

She forms them stronger, indestructible.

"I had nothing to do with it," she snaps.

But if it isn't her, then who is this new heir?

When she slides into the warm Slytherin showers, she's still shivering.


	12. Chapter 12

"Well," Hermione sighs, "this is just _wonderful_."

"What is?"

"There are several people throughout the centuries that claimed to be heirs to the Founders of Hogwarts. Most of the lines have died out; many have become so muddled you can barely tell for certain." Hermione bites her lip. In the glowing light from the Gryffindor Common Room fire, her brown hair looks almost orange.

"Well, duh," Ron shrugs, preoccupied with moving his chess pieces to defeat Harry's.

"There aren't many books on bloodlines in the library, but…" The nervous tremor in Hermione's voice finally makes the boys look up.

"But what?" Harry asks patiently.

"But the most recent claim made to Salazar's bloodline was… well, it was You-Know-Who."

Ron's face immediately flushes. "What?! _Him_? But Harry defeated him _again_ just last spring!"

Hermione rushes to defend herself. "Yes, well, I'm painfully aware of that Ronald! But think for a moment; whatever this monster is, it's targeting Muggleborns and Halfbloods- just like You-Know-Who. It's claiming the House of Slytherin- just like You-Know-Who. _And_ -"

"And it's seeking me out directly," Harry adds quietly, staring past his friends and into the flames. "The monster, when it talks, I mean. I can understand it. It's seeking me out just like-"

"Don't," Ron warns, knowing Harry isn't afraid of the name.

Hermione studies the both of them. "That's not even his real name Ron. He made it up. There probably aren't very many people alive that know his real name; and those people are probably even less likely to talk to us about it."

Harry sighs. "Which means we can't trace his line to see if he really _is_ the Heir-"

"And without proof that he's the Heir," Ron suddenly catches on, "there's no way to prove that he's attempting to come back. _Again. In Hogwarts._ _ **Again!**_ "

For a moment, Harry has a bizarre feeling of terror; as though he is right on the edge of something, and is about to tumble over.

He doesn't realize that the strange emotion is not his own, but is an echo of Aveline, who sits many stories below on her bed, heart in her throat.

Voldemort is indeed Salazar Slytherin's heir… and she is _his._

* * *

All thoughts of bloodlines and beasts, heirs and secrets fade, however, in favor of fervor for the next Quidditch game.

"Get to that Snitch today or die trying, Harry, because we've got to win today. We have to!" Wood heaves.

"No pressure, then, Harry," Fred winks at him.

Harry has no time to be nervous, for as soon as he kicks into the air, already damp from the mist of coming rain, squinting for the Snitch, a heavy black Bludger comes flying at his head.

His stomach swoops as he dives to avoid it; across the pitch, Draco sends questioning vibes. Harry is already trying hard not to think about competing against his soulmate; the vibe-sending is not making it any easier.

The Bludger returns for him several times. Both Fred and George try their hardest to Beat it away from him, or at least stop it from bashing his skull in. Harry has no chance to look for the Snitch; through Draco's eyes, he sees himself and the Weasley twins blur together, one mass of scarlet and gold and flailing limbs.

Wood finally manages to secure them a time-out. "What are you doing? Fred, George, why didn't you stop the Bludger that kept Angelina from scoring?"

"We're too busy-"

"-Trying to keep Harry from being murdered by another one! It's been-"

"-Tampered with, Wood, seriously. The Slytherin's must have fixed it before the match."

The twins glare identically at Wood.

Harry looks from the jeering Slytherin team, to Draco still flying above. He had always loved to play against Draco on the Malfoy pitch. Why is this any different? They both love Quidditch; it _would_ be great fun, trying to see how many games each of them could win. Harry then looks at Sirius, far above him in the stands. His godfather is peering over the railings, hand shading his eyes, trying to figure out what is happening.

He can't let him down.

Madam Hooch is approaching; any second now, she'll interfere and make them forfeit.

"Look, we're not going to score anymore unless Fred and George protect the other players from the normal Bludgers," Harry says quickly. "Let me deal with the rogue one on my own."

There's mass protest, but Wood nods grimly at Harry.

Harry swoops and swerves, glides and dives all across the stadium. It begins to rain heavily. He blocks Draco from his mind, squinting through the sheets of water for the Snitch.

Draco, noticing his erratic movements, breaks through his mental blocks when Harry is distracted by the Bludger.

 _What are you doing, Harry, training for the ballet?!_

And there, in Draco's peripheral vision, as yet unnoticed by him, is the Snitch.

Harry speeds toward Draco. Draco yelps, dodging the Bludger himself.

Harry reaches for the Snitch… _There, there… ALMOST…_

WHAM.

Harry feels searing pain as his arm breaks. The bone snaps cleanly and lies heavy and useless at his side. He hears Draco yell out with the echoed pain. Aveline slides into their minds, her cry heard across the link.

Damn, is it irritating to feel everything three times!

Somehow, he realizes, he's managed to catch the Snitch. Which is all well and good, but as Harry tries to dodge once more, as the Bludger is still aiming for his head, he slips upside down on his broom. Harry dangles by his legs as he careens to the ground. Draco yells out and dives after him.

He's too late. Harry slams into the ground, suddenly thankful for the mud as he slides along it wildly. When he finally stops, he looks down at the Snitch in his hand.

"Aha," he says to no one in particular. "We've won."

Then everything goes dark.

* * *

"How can you stick up for Lockhart now, Hermione? If Harry had wanted deboning, he would have asked!" Ron snaps as he helps Harry into his pajama shirt.

Fred and George arrive, along with most of the Gryffindor team. They bring juice, pastries, and candy of all sorts. It is promising to be a good party, until Madam Pomfrey chases them all out.

"Honestly! This boy has thirty-three bones to regrow! Out! _Out!_ "

The peace does not last, however, as Sirius bursts through the doors, followed by Remus. He has obviously been debriefed and subsequently calmed by Dumbledore. There's a glint in his eyes Harry doesn't know what to make of until he speaks.

"HARRY, SON-"

"SIRIUS, NO-"

"THAT WAS THE MOST SPECTACULAR, WONDERFUL, DEATH-DEFYING-"

"THIS IS NOT A POSITIVE THING SIRI-"

"If you cannot be quiet, as your godson needs rest, then _out_ with you Mr. Black!"

Remus pats Harry's head and allows Sirius to give him a bone-crushing hug before being guided out the door, raging enthusiastically all the while.

Harry grins into the dark before falling asleep.

He wakes sometime later with the painful feeling of splinters in his arm; his bones are definitely taking their time growing back. It takes him several moments before he realizes that his head is being sponged.

He blinks his eyes open, expecting he had caught a fever in the night. After flying in the rain and regrowing around three dozen bones, it wouldn't be a far leap. Instead of Madam Pomfrey's matronly face, however, he comes face to face with a wrinkly, brown little creature with large bat-like ears.

" _Ah_! _Gerroff_!" Harry shrieks in a most dignified manner. He shoves at the tiny body, knocking it to the foot of his bed. Instinctively, he grabs for his wand and casts _Lumos._

"Dobby!" Harry gasps. He vaguely recognizes the little elf as belonging to the Malfoys.

Then another memory resurfaces; his most recent birthday, and the vague image of being taken somewhere by a small creature with large ears…

"Dobby, you didn't," he snarls.

A single fat tear runs down the end of Dobby's nose. "I didn't take you to the mean Muggles on purpose, sir. That, Dobby was made to do, sir. But Dobby _did_ think that after missing the train-"

"How do you know I missed the train?"

Dobby's bashful silence is all Harry needs.

" _Seriously_?"

"Harry Potter must go home, sir! T'is not safe here at Hogwarts, no sir. T'is not safe anywhere, it seems, where that thing is… my master was not well for some time…"

"What? When was Lucius ill? Besides that, what do you mean you were made to take me to the Muggles? Isn't it Lucius that orders you around?"

"Never mind that, sir. I thought that after Dobby's Bludger, Harry Potter may leave."

" _You_ set the Bludger on me, Dobby? You could have killed me!"

"Dobby did not mean to kill! Only maim, or seriously injure!"

"Well Dobby accomplished that! Why would you want to send me home in pieces, then?"

"You mean quite a lot to us house elves, sir," Dobby explains. He settles himself on the end of the bed, straightening the end of Harry's blanket. "We were treated like vermin before you triumphed over He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, sir. Afterward, many families were too afraid of being called Dark to mistreat elves, sir. You are a beacon of hope for the downtrodden and enslaved. That is why Dobby cannot allow you to stay here, sir, not when terrible things are about to happen, not when the Chamber of Secrets has been opened once more…"

Dobby trails off, bulbous eyes going ever rounder.

Harry has caught his slip. "Wait, Dobby-"

But Dobby pops away, and Harry is left alone in the dark.

At least, he is for a moment.

Lights shines through as the heavy wooden doors of the Infirmary open. They swing open, creaking loudly, to reveal Dumbledore levitating what looks like a statue. McGonagall follows him, hurrying to Madam Pomfrey's chambers to wake her.

"What happened?" she gasps.

"Another attack," McGonagall confirms. "On the stairs. We found a box of Bertie Botts with him. We think he was trying to sneak down here to see Potter."

Harry's stomach sinks horribly, worse than when he was falling on the pitch. The panic awakens both Draco and Aveline. Sleepily, they slip inside his mind. As one, they watch Madam Pomfrey bend over Colin Creevey. His frozen hands still hold his camera.

"Petrified?"

"Yes."

"You don't think he managed to get a picture of his attacker?"

Dumbledore opens the back of the camera, only for steam to hiss out of it.

"Melted…" McGonagall mutters wonderingly. "But what does this mean?"

"It means the Chamber of Secrets has truly been opened once more," Dumbledore announces gravely. Madam Pomfrey claps a hand over her mouth in horror.

"But… _who?_ " McGonagall demands.

"No. Not _who._ _ **How**_ ," Dumbledore stresses.

* * *

Ginny Weasley, who usually sits next to Colin in Charms, is absolutely distraught. She begins having nightmares. Her red hair falls out in clumps.

Aveline notices.

* * *

 _Darling Draco, Dearest Aveline,_ the letter begins.

Aveline nudges Draco. He slurps down the rest of his porridge, then scoots closer to her on the Great Hall bench to read.

 _We're writing you a joint letter to inform you both that we have discussed the matter with Severus and Sirius, and wish the three of you to remain at Hogwarts for the Yule holidays._

 _There is some very serious Ministry business happening that Mr. Malfoy and I simply cannot ignore. While we are aware of the attacks against your classmates, we have full confidence that with Severus there to protect you, nothing negative will come of it. We have faith that this nasty business will be sorted out in no time._

 _Rest assured, your presents will be delivered promptly in time for Christmas morning. We look forward to seeing you after Quidditch games and at the end of term._

 _Love always, Narcissa Malfoy_

"Look how formal it is," Aveline murmurs suspiciously.

"Look how short it is," Draco frowns.

Across the hall, after reading his own letter, Harry looks up and grimaces.

Something is attacking students in Hogwarts… and something else is threatening their stability outside of it.

* * *

"I am certain the Goyle boy does not have the book," Severus snarls at Lucius.

They have spent weeks trying to discover who ended up with it instead. They cannot even be certain it was anyone that was involved in the fall in Flourish's that day. It could have been any student that was present, or one that wondered in and found it under a shelf afterward.

So they are trying to deduce who definitely does not have it, and then work from there.

To create a twofold issue, not only are they hiding this diary business from Sirius and Remus, but they are also trying to assist them in the search for Pettigrew.

"We're running out of time," Sirius constantly mutters.

Severus had been confused when Black had first brought up the manhunt for Peter. Why does it matter _when_ the rat is found as long as he _is_ eventually found?

"Peter killed _thirteen_ that day, Severus. He had just been an accomplice to the Potters' murders. He had _Potter_ _blood on his hands_."

Severus stares at Sirius.

Sirius forges on, saying the awful words, "The kids turn _thirteen_ next year."

Severus barely breathes. "Thirteen lives and a blood link…"

"He could complete the spell at any time. As long as he can get their blood, he'll be able to summon _thirteen Death Eaters_ to protect him, he'll hold their lives in his hands; he's a rat Animagus, he can scurry in and out of Azkaban and blend right in. And then-"

"Then he'll come for Harry."

 _He'll come for Aveline._

Severus had not objected to sacrificing one Christmas at home, then.


	13. Chapter 13

" _Stay away from him, snake."_

Harry's voice hisses and scratches in her ears. Like everyone else, she is paralyzed in fear and shock, watching him. How is he controlling the beast?

The snake coils in on itself, docile instantly. " _Yes, sir."_ It glances uncertainly between Harry and Aveline. _"Your she-mate understands?"_

Harry looks down from the platform at Aveline, eyebrows furrowed. Draco is gasping on the other side of the room, frozen in duel-pose next to Theo. Aveline can see in his eyes that he understands, too.

No one else does. She looks around the crowded room. So many students signed up for Lockhart's new club; they're all staring at her, at Harry, at Draco. Aveline's chest begins to feel tight. What if they all rush at her at once? What if they all know now that _she_ is the true beast? What if-

She forces herself to stop, to breathe. She mouths the word _claustrophobia_ and she does not move. That is all this is; some stupid childish fear.

Harry is gazing at her, waiting on her to reply to the snake. She cannot. Then she will be linked to the Chamber.

 _I'm sorry, Harry. No one can know about our link. If Draco and I both respond…_

Anger, frustration, and an overwhelming feeling of isolation wells up inside Harry. It threatens to consume her along with her claustrophobia.

Then Severus moves to banish the snake.

Aveline stares at the frightened, submissive, black little snake coiled on the platform. Harry's dueling partner, Justin Finch-Fletchley, is still staring at Harry and the snake in absolute horror. It's not the snake's fault that Justin used a Summoning spell he didn't understand.

"Stop!" Aveline cries out.

Severus looks down at her first in surprise, and then in warning. He knows as well as she that involving herself in this is not wise.

"Please, sir, let me keep the snake."

Severus invades her mind instantly, searching for her motivations. When he learns that the three of them understand the snake, his shock fills her mind. He finds her compassion, her fear, her grief for not being able to support Harry and implicate herself in any other way than this.

His dark eyes scan hers as he leaves her mind. For the first time, in front of many students from all Houses, Snape publicly acknowledges his connection to her. "I will transport it to Beathan, Aveline. No harm will come to the snake. The snake is not at fault."

Severus nods, then glares at Justin. Justin shrinks back, jumping off the platform and returning to the safety of a cluster of Hufflepuffs.

"Away with all of you!" Snape finally calls out to the room at large. "The meeting is over."

Everyone scurries out at once, whispering Harry's name.

* * *

" _Where did you come from?"_

" _The forest that is Forbidden to your kind, outside this castle."_

" _Do you wish to return?"_

" _I was about to be eaten by a great thestral. So no, I would prefer not to return, mistress."_

" _Do not call me mistress! My name is Aveline. You are to be my friend."_

" _Yes, Aveline."_

" _What is your name?"_

" _I shall not tell you. You would mock me."_

" _Of course I wouldn't."_

" _Fine. If you mock me, I shall bite you Aveline."_

Severus, throughout the entire conversation, had been listening to the strange rolling, guttural hisses escaping Aveline's mouth. She is perched quite comfortably by the fire in his quarters, curled in a large armchair with Jinx the cat curled around her shoulders, watching the new pet carefully. Isis, the beautiful black owl, hoots importantly from her perch in the corner, glaring at the new snake that she would likely enjoy devouring.

Severus sighs, wondering why he allows his child to collect so many pets. At least they all match.

Finally, Aveline looks up, switching to English. "Her name is Medusa. She's from the Forbidden Forest, but she doesn't wish to return there. The thestrals try to eat her."

"Of course they do."

"She is very young. She will grow much larger in time, I believe."

"Naturally."

The snake coils around Aveline's arm, very content with its new home. Severus watches its eyes close. A feeling of dread coils in the pit of his stomach; how pleased will Voldemort become to learn his heir has inherited his affinity for and ability to speak to snakes?

Aveline senses the mood shift; Severus watches her body language adjust accordingly. She grows more regal and beautiful every day. It makes his heart ache.

"Severus, could my father talk to snakes?"

"Yes, Aveline."

"And because I have the ability, so do Harry and Draco?"

"It would appear that way, yes. Generally, the ability to speak Parseltongue is found only in the oldest of families, those connected to Salazar Slytherin himself."

Aveline's eyes narrow. The flickering firelight and the darkness of his dungeon office walls behind her create sharp contrast on her face. "So I _am_ the Heir everyone is talking about?"

Severus's breath catches in his throat. He had not wanted to consider, in all his searching for the journal, that Aveline was responsible.

"I suppose you would be the technical Heir, yes," he hesitates, watching her.

He has never been more relieved in his life when her face crumples under the strain of her tears. Her small frame heaves under the strain of her sudden sobs; her head bows so low her hair sweeps across her knees. Aveline essentially folds in on herself in the strain.

Severus itches to console her, to make it all go away, but intellectually he understands what an important moment this is for her, so he bears her cries as best as he can and allows her to continue.

"I haven't done anything, Severus, I swear it," she wails. He can barely understand her through her tears. This amount of emotion is rarely shown by her. How long has she kept this worry inside?

Perhaps he is not nearly as observant as he likes to believe.

"I don't want to hurt anybody, I like Muggles and their movies and their shopping centers, Severus, I do! I keep trying to watch all the clocks and remember every little detail about my day because he possessed me before and he could do it again, but Severus there aren't any blackouts!" Aveline is still sobbing, ranting. "I'm fine, I'm not possessed, and I wouldn't hurt anyone, but now _I'm the Heir and I can talk to snakes_!"

The last words are more blubbered than spoken. Aveline's hands cover her face and eyes. Severus's heart aches for her. He is about to move to comfort her when she speaks again.

"Harry and his friends think that my father is trying to come back again this year. Do you think that's true? If he's not possessing me, _who is he possessing_?"

Severus looks at her hunched form, minutes ago so regal and calm, now all but destroyed by this line of thinking. She is only _twelve_. Still, he cannot lie to her. He will _not_ be the reason she makes the most important decisions of her life based on subpar information.

"Aveline, your father will always try to come back in a corporeal form. He will not rest until he succeeds. It is not a matter of _if_ , but a matter of _when._ " There is so much more he does and does not want to add. He remains silent, allowing her to process.

Her head snaps up, anger and distress causing her black marks to show with a vengeance. They crawl around her eyes, curl around her jaws. He watches them appear on her hands. The runes darken until they look like ink stains. The marks make her look so much less than human.

"Well then _who is he possessing?_ I've been trying to figure it out myself, Severus, but there are perfectly plausible and reasonable explanations for everyone I've come up with," she snarls at him, gnashing her teeth. Her new snake blinks its eyes open, lazily looking up at her.

Severus is surprised and frustrated all at once. These children do not understand the magnitude of the dangers they stumble into, putting the mysteries of armies, spies, murderers, Dark witches and wizards, and war together like puzzle pieces. "Trying to understand your father's plots is not your place, Aveline."

He understands he's said something very wrong when the marks start to move under her skin. They writhe in time with her anger. The fire in the fireplace burns larger, hotter, at the same time that a conjured wind sends sparks and soot flying in circles through the air. Aveline jumps to her feet, dislodging Jinx. The cat scampers under the armchair.

"Don't you ever, _ever_ tell me that my father's plots are none of my business. I _am_ one of my father's plots! I'm practically a Gollum, existing only for him and performing his bidding! My entire life is centered on growing up to assist him in every evil act under the sun. Don't act as though I'm not aware; as though _everyone_ that knows isn't perfectly aware of the Dark nature of my being! I'm _designed_ by Voldemort, Severus; by Voldemort and some random woman that probably protected herself by donating an egg. As soon as he returns in a corporeal form, my entire life as I have always known it is over. I personally would like to prolong this lifestyle because I enjoy being free as opposed to a slave to my own blood. And what's more, Severus, is that I am _terrified_ of loving the life he will offer me more than I love this one. How am I supposed to feel about him Severus? How am I supposed to decide my place with him _before_ he returns and takes over my life, if I don't know _how_ he's going to return to take over my life?!"

Before he can stop her, the heated pressure in the room escalates to the point that all the windows shatter. Cold air rushes in, dousing the heat immediately. All of the energy seems to leave her small body with it. She collapses back into the arm chair, watching as Severus wordlessly repairs the windows. He can feel how wide his eyes sit in his skull.

It appears he still has much to learn about this child.

"Aveline, there are several matters about what you just… _expressed_ … that I wish to discuss. However, first I would like to ask you to tell me who _you_ suspect of possession."

Aveline studies him carefully as her marks fade. Without the fire, it is decidedly darker in the room. It makes her seem more sinister than she really is. Still, Severus feels a chill. Over the last decade or so, it had been so easy to forget that she is the Dark Lord's daughter. He does not like this reminder.

"There are several. Most of them are younger, as an older student would be more difficult to control and manipulate; Terry Boot, Sophie Roper, Justin Finch-Fletchley, and-"

Severus sits quietly through her hesitation; the hair stands on the back of his neck.

"-and Ginny Weasley," Aveline finishes.

She sighs in a long-suffering fashion, and then stands. She collects her pets, obviously intent on carrying them back to the dorms.

"Aveline," Severus calls after her as she reaches the door. She pauses, but does not turn around. "Aveline, you need to know that you are most certainly not a Gollum. I do forget the strain your lineage puts upon you; I apologize. I will try to do better about remembering. You are a wonderful, smart, gifted, beautiful young woman, Aveline. At twelve, you are already more powerful than many, many grown wizards. It has been a privilege to raise you. You have many choices in front of you, Aveline, even if it doesn't always seem that way. But my darling, I implore you, never forget that the less you know, the safer you are. The less you know, the less will be expected of you."

He sees the tension rise in her shoulders. Medusa hisses at him as she crawls up Aveline's shoulder. And then Aveline shrugs.

"Thank you. But, Severus, I don't think the expectations placed upon me are going to be based upon something as rational as _knowledge_."

And then she is gone as his heavy door closes behind her, the darkness of the dungeon swallowing her form.

* * *

Harry is in his invisibility cloak, sneaking to the kitchens with Ron, when they quite literally stumble across Justin Finch-Fletchley and Nearly-Headless Nick, petrified in the corridor.

Ron panics. "We need to inform a professor right away, Harry!"

"No," Harry says in a surprisingly flat monotone. "No, we do not."

"What?! Why not?!"

"Because as far as we're concerned, we never saw them." Harry decides.

Ron doesn't know what to make of Harry's flat green eyes.

* * *

Christmas morning dawns. Medusa is curled around Aveline's ankle; she can feel Jinx curled up next to her shoulder blades. Isis hoots from the Common Room. Aveline watches her sleek black feathers move as she flies into the dorms, depositing another package at the foot of her bed.

Aveline lies very still in the darkness of her dorm. She has never been more thankful to have it to herself. After her embarrassing outburst, she had avoided Severus at all costs. Once the holiday break began, he had left her to help Lucius, Narcissa, and Severus with their "ministry business". After suspecting each and every Slytherin, especially Sophie after her pro-Pureblood rants in the Common Room, of being the opener of the Chamber of Secrets, Aveline has exhausted her mental resources. She is certain no Slytherin is the opener. One House down, three more to go. That can all wait until after Christmas, however.

Aveline senses Harry's joy, far above her in the Gryffindor Tower. For a moment, she toys with the idea of watching him open her gift to him; she and Hagrid had worked together with Sirius to create a photo album of his parents, tracking down as many pictures as possible. Sirius had identified the other people in the photographs; Aveline had charmed the Muggle ones to move while Hagrid had created the leather binding of the album. To her surprise, Severus had contributed carefully crafted copies of his own photos of Lily Evans; a young Severus had tried to edge himself out of the frame when Aveline had charmed him to move, seeming embarrassed and awkward. Lily had laughed, tugging him back into the shot and waving.

Eventually, she decides it's too private a moment for Harry, and leaves him be after sending a mix of love and laziness to him through the link.

She hears noise on the stone stairs outside her room; Draco arrives, carrying an armful of presents. Things have been tense between them since his partial accusation of her opening the Chamber. She watches him, remaining coiled on her side in her bed.

"I come bearing gifts," he says, holding them up, a sheepish smile on his face.

"Your own?" She arches one eyebrow at him.

"Well… yeah. But I sent yours by Isis last night, so it should be in your pile. I thought we could open ours together."

She studies him, turning over his not-an-apology in her mind. Finally, she nods her head a bit in assent, cheeks sliding against her sleek green pillows. The tension leaves Draco's body. He walks calmly to the other side of the bed and crawls under her covers.

"Hey! Don't steal the warm part."

"I'm a Malfoy. We take what we want."

"And I'm Aveline, and I know for a fact that my present to you will be the best one, and I might just take it back!"

The banter between them feels right.

As Draco's arm brushes hers, a strange pull begins inside of her. After a moment of consideration, she recognizes it as her magic. It is strong and steady. She hears Draco gasp, and then she sees it; between their skins, a heated gold glow has begun.

"I thought this could only happen with Harry," she says in quiet wonder.

The gold light springs to life everywhere their skin touches. It glides throughout every corner of the dormitory, illuminating the darkness and making the green brighter.

"We're soulmates too, Aveline. Me and you, I mean," Draco whispers.

Aveline feels her marks begin to show. She turns her face away. Sometimes she feels as though her marks unnerve Draco. They make her look inhuman, otherworldly.

His hand comes up to her side. His fingers brush across her hip. She's surprised at the sudden burst of heat and golden energy; her shirt had ridden up without her noticing. "Don't turn away, please. You don't frighten me, Aveline."

Slowly, she turns her head back to him. There's a grin on his face. "Did you know you have a dragon on your ribs?"

She had known; there's a lion on the other side. Sometimes, late at night when Severus is least likely to check on her, she stands in front of her mirror and lets her marks roam free. The dragon and lion like to run across the expanse of her back, around and around the other runes and marks, chasing each other before returning to her ribs. It irritates the snake on her thigh; the snake will tolerate the dragon, as they share the left side of her body, but it abhors the mischievous lion.

Aveline shrugs, suddenly uncomfortable. She feels as though Harry should be there; the lion is his, just as the dragon is Draco's. Her dragon stares longingly after Draco as she sits up, her shirt falling back down to cover it. "Let's open presents."

* * *

Hermione sifts through the presents at the foot of her bed. She had been astonished last year to wake up to presents that had been owled before she ever went downstairs to find the ones under the tree from her parents.

Harry has given her a wonderful new set of quills; Ronald had given her a book on his favorite Quidditch team, the Chudley Cannons. She's surprised to still have so many presents after theirs; there's cakes from Hagrid that are more like rocks, books on Patronus casting from Remus Lupin, a box of sweets from Sirius Black, a knitted scarf from Molly Weasley, more books from Theo Nott, a strange charm from Luna Lovegood, a wilting scarlet plant from Neville Longbottom, a rather intimidating and expensive bracelet from Blaise Zabini of all people, and a practical leather journal from Draco.

Hermione moves the journal to place it next to her bedside table, when a sealed envelope falls out of it. Her name is scrawled across the front in Aveline's neat handwriting.

Curiously, she slides her nail under the envelope to open it.

The first thing to fall out is a scrap piece of parchment. Hermione's stomach drops when she realizes what is written across it in bold letters, with several exclamation points:

 _ **SHHHHHH!**_

Hermione reaches into the envelope and pulls out folded pages from a book. They seem to be very old, so she unfolds them carefully. Flipping through them, she notices many different magical creatures.

Finally, she reaches the last two. Across their pages writhes a magical illustration of a very large snake. The word _basilisk_ is printed across the top.

At the bottom of the page, nearly hidden by the snake's moving tail, written by Aveline, is the word _**pipes!**_

Hermione holds her breath as she neatly refolds the pages, placing them back in the envelope. She decides she would have much preferred more books.

* * *

Harry nervously steps onto the moving spiral staircase. McGonagall had fetched him from the Great Hall before Aveline or Draco could arrive to share Christmas breakfast with him. Already he'd been a bit irritated, as the two of them had placed light barriers around their minds all morning. What could they possibly be doing down there in the dungeons that they didn't want him to see?

Aveline _had_ given him one of the best gifts of his life, however. He had tucked the album carefully in his trunk at the foot of his bed, wrapped in last year's Christmas sweater from Molly. This year he had received a new one.

The wide wooden doors in front of him swing open. Harry steps slowly into the opulent room. There are instruments and books on shelves lining every wall. Multicolored tapestries with designs that move hang from the ceilings. Portraits of all of Hogwarts' headmasters and headmistresses line the rest of the wall space, cheerfully celebrating Christmas within the confines of their frames.

As warm and joyful as the office seems, tension and fear still coil inside Harry's stomach. Had Sirius heard about the snake incident? Is he about to be expelled for being the Heir and opening the Chamber? Surely Sirius would have been called here too, though, if he were about to be expelled.

This rather morbid line of thinking is distracted by a strange cooing sound. Harry frowns and follows it up a small set of stairs, to a perch designed for a large bird. He is rather disappointed by what he finds, however; instead of an intriguing, large bird he finds a rather pitiful and ill bird instead. Its feathers have grown gray and drudge with age. Its eyes droop low, closing slowly. Harry stares at the bird, wondering if perhaps Madam Pomfrey knows how to heal magical beings other than humans, when suddenly the bird bursts into flames.

The flames consume the bird as it gives a wild croak, and then dies, disintegrating into ash and falling to the bottom of the perch.

Harry starts and glances up to find Dumbledore watching him carefully.

"Sir, I-"

"You did nothing wrong, Harry," Dumbledore says, shaking his head. His white beard is neatly braided, a strange sight to be sure. Jingle bells hang from the end of it. Harry smells the faint scent of eggnog emanating from the headmaster.

"Fawkes is always a bit dramatic when he dies."

"Erm… sir?"

"Watch," Dumbledore says, gesturing to the perch. Harry does.

Soon the dark ashes begin to stir. Harry watches in amazement as a baby bird, naked and red, emerges from the soot. Its wings spread, wet and shiny. The baby bird coos, and Harry realizes it is the same sound that had lead him to the perch in the first place.

"You have a phoenix, sir!" Harry realizes with a start.

Dumbledore nods jovially. "Yes, Harry, though I believe it is far more accurate to say that Fawkes acquired himself a Dumbledore."

"What was it that you called for, Professor?"

"Harry, I wish to give you a Christmas present. I realize that you've been under an undue amount of stress lately. Schoolyard rumors can be terrible, nasty things. I want to give you the gift of peace of mind, Harry."

Harry sinks into a chair, unbidden. "You don't believe I opened the Chamber?"

Dumbledore glides down the stairs, waving absentmindedly at a very persistent portrait. "No, Harry, I do not believe you are the Heir."

"Can you make everyone stop being afraid of me, sir?"

Dumbledore looks at him curiously. "You do not enjoy people being intimidated by you, Harry?"

"Why would I? I'm just Harry."

Dumbledore seems startled for a moment, and then he begins to laugh. He laughs so long Harry begins to wonder if he should just get up and leave.

"Oh, my dear boy. That you are! I am afraid, however, that if I were to address these rumors, it would make it worse on you. Addresses such as those tend to have that unfortunate and unintended effect."

"Then what would you recommend, sir?"

Dumbledore's eyes start to twinkle even more than usual, which immediately makes Harry suspicious. "Well, Harry, the easiest way to fix this is to catch the real culprit. Tell me, do you have any idea who it might be?"

"Why would I?"

"Surely your rumor, though the loudest, is not the only one."

"The only other rumor I've heard, sir, is about a fifth year Hufflepuff dating a seventh year Ravenclaw, and it's causing quite a ruckus amongst those Houses, _sir_ ," Harry says through his teeth. Who does this man think he is, trying to manipulate him like this?!

"Alas, I am afraid that particular rumor is not very relevant. Do you keep your eyes and ears open, Harry. Never be afraid to report anything; for instance, I fear poor Mr. Fletchley and Nearly-Headless Nick were found much before they were transported to the Hospital Wing, and fear kept mouths shut when they should have been open."

Harry feels his eyes narrow and tries to stop the suspicion from showing, but fears he is not very successful. "If that will be all, sir."

"Indeed. Merry Christmas Harry."

"Merry Christmas, Professor Dumbledore."


	14. Chapter 14

_Dear Draco,_

 _Your mother would murder me in our wedding bed if she knew I was writing you, so please don't tell her._

 _You are my son and heir, Draco. You may be quite young, but I differ from your mother in that I do not believe that changes your position. You see, son, our family has been in quite the precarious place since Abraxas Malfoy, your grandfather, attended Hogwarts with one Tom Riddle. This Tom Riddle made many friends while in Hogwarts; these friends Followed him outside of it, and encouraged their sons to Follow him as well._

 _While I do not deny agreeing on many points of policy with Mr. Riddle, I tend to question his methods. These methods are currently being carried out within the walls of Hogwarts, and have not been employed for nearly fifty years. If carried to their goal, these methods may prove disastrous._

 _Draco, I hereby ask you to watch your classmates. Observe their habits and notice if they change. Look for a diary, Draco, a very old leather journal with no writing in it. You'll know it when you see it._

 _If you find it, owl it immediately to me._ _ **Do not, under any circumstances, write in it.**_

 _You may inform only those that will aid you in your search under the utmost discretion._

 _Your father,_

 _Lucius Malfoy_

* * *

Draco's intense eyes bore into Aveline's. She forces herself not to look away. The letter his father wrote to him trembles in her hand. The cold of their Common Room seeps into her.

"Do you want to help your father or mine?"

It takes Aveline several long moments to answer. Goosebumps form on Draco's skin.

"Neither," she finally decides, and he releases a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. "But Draco, we know your father. I would very much like to meet mine."

* * *

Ginny pulls the toilet handle and turns away.

The second she does, she can feel it tugging at her soul. It whispers and calls to her, threatening and coaxing in the same breath. She remembers Tom's words, remembers her heart beating faster at the thought of being perfectly understood.

That stupid diary understands her alright; it understands her enough to make her do terrible things; killing roosters in the night, blood spurting out from between her fingers, speaking to that terrible monster that lurks in the pipes behind the walls of the school, waking up in sweat and screams in the night, the curtains of her bed tightly drawn and Silenced.

It understands her enough to know her power, and to use it against her. It understands how to kill her. It understands how to make dying _hurt_. Her body aches constantly. Her nose bleeds every hour.

Her head spins.

Which is why it's no shock, really, when she plows right into someone in the middle of the corridor. The diary consumes her every thought; leaving it behind in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom has hurt so terribly it's making her eyes water.

The tears finally fall when she lands with an "oof"; there's a cry of " _Ginny_!"

"Luna?"

"And me." Theo's dark eyes bore into hers. Her skin is paler than even his when he reaches down to help her to her feet.

"We were just returning from the library," Luna explains. "Are you alright? You seem a bit… peckish."

"Erm, yes, I'm er, fine," Ginny nods. "Thanks. See you later," and then she's gone, trying to scurry down the corridor and achieving something closer to swaying.

Theo stares after her, feeling something tight in his chest. "It's odd, isn't it Lu?"

"What is?" Luna asks, eyes wide and concerned.

"That the Weasleys are in Gryffindor, but they're _Purebloods_."

* * *

Harry and Ron just so happen to be passing Moaning Myrtle's bathroom when they notice water all over the floor outside.

With just a shared look, they rush in.

Moaning Myrtle is indeed living up to her moniker, shrieking, groaning, and wailing about the destruction of her bathroom. Water swirls as high as Harry's knees; Ron curses the wet hem of his robes.

"What happened in here, Myrtle?"

"Have the two of you come to destroy what's left of my toilets?!"

"Of course not!" Ron snaps.

"Someone flushed a stupid book down my favorite toilet. It landed on my head!"

When Harry opens the sopping, faded journal, it is entirely blank.

"Hey, look," Ron points to the name on the inside cover. " _Tom M. Riddle._ But that's the guy that got a special services award! I ought to know, during that detention I only vomited slugs all over it about forty times-"

"But there's no writing in it."

Ron shrugs. "It's Hogwarts, mate."

* * *

Hermione accompanies them to the trophy room the next day. She seems thoroughly interested; the boys can't figure out why she keeps a hand mirror clutched tightly in her fingers. They figure it's a girl thing.

"I've seen enough of this room to last a lifetime," Ron grumbles.

"Draco told me that Lucius told him that the Chamber was opened fifty years ago, but Lucius refused to say much more than that," Harry murmurs, scanning the walls for Tom Riddle's trophy. His eyes find his father's; Sirius had shown him the Quidditch trophy after his first game. They find Riddle's name also on a list of previous Head Boys, and on a List for Magical Merit.

"Here," Hermione points quickly. "The forties… that's fifty years ago, alright. Perhaps Tom Riddle was the one to figure it out last time? Perhaps he closed the Chamber?"

"If he closed it, then who _opened_ it?" Ron asks.

* * *

For a time, there are no more attacks. Gilderoy Lockhart, entirely convinced the monster stopped out of fear of his punishment, decides to celebrate.

On Valentine's Day, Blaise, Aveline, Draco, Sophie, and Tracey all arrive at the Great Hall to find it covered in large pink paper flowers. Streamers hang from the rafters; confetti falls from the ceiling.

They all turn right around and walk right out, which is why they're slightly confused to find dwarves dressed like cupids chasing down Harry some time later.

Theo Nott is snickering at the end of the hall. Obviously he's pulled some kind of prank.

" _His eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad,_

 _His hair is as black as a dark board._

 _I wish he was mine, he's really divine,_

 _The hero that conquered the Dark Lord!"_

Trying to fight off the singing dwarf and glare at Theo at the same time, Harry trips and falls. Aveline and Draco wince at the rough jolt to Harry's elbow. Scarlet ink flies from one of Harry's pots and covers his books.

Aveline goes very still. There's a rough, old journal tucked into Harry's Potion textbook. Draco sees it too; he practically dives for the journal, ignoring the other students who are still practically crying with laughter.

"Oi! Mate," Harry cries, reaching for his books.

Percy Weasley has decided to interfere. He's trying to disperse the crowds. Harry's hand is on one end of the journal, Draco's on the other. Harry's green eyes are sharp, questioning; Draco's, intense.

"What are you doing?" Harry questions.

Aveline breaks through Draco's mental barriers, though he's built them tough this time. _Draco, you have to let it go. He'll start to suspect. You have to let the journal go!_

With a clenched jaw, Draco lets go.

"I was going to clean it for you," Draco mutters begrudgingly.

Harry opens his mouth to retort, and for a moment Aveline is hopeful he'll agree and hand it back. Then Draco can take it to the dorms for 'cleaning', send it to Lucius, and they can all be done with this nasty business.

Instead, Harry frowns down at the journal. "Huh, that's funny. It's not stained."

Aveline looks at the perfectly blank pages, and tries very hard to stamp down the sudden panic.

* * *

 _Let me show you._

Harry's hand shakes as he writes back, _OK._

* * *

Aveline is still shaking when the Circle meets in their usual third floor corridor classroom. The image of her young father is burned inside her mind's eye. His hair had been just a shade or two darker than hers, but when the light strikes right she has his eyes. She has his cheekbones. The lilt in their voices is the same.

She had wanted to ask Harry to reach out and touch him, but Harry does not know that Tom Riddle is Voldemort. She's terribly shocked no one has figured out who she is yet; _Voldemort_ is French for _flight of death_ ; _enigme_ is French for _riddle_. Honestly, how dense can these people be?

"It was Hagrid," Harry keeps telling their Circle, though Aveline knows that it wasn't. Poor Hagrid; he had been one of Voldemort's first victims, though he didn't know it.

Does Dumbledore know what Tom Riddle became? Surely _he's_ put it all together by now; but he'd have to have proof, and that is something Aveline will not give.

"The attacks have stopped," Blaise reminds the group. "It would be foolish to confront him now. If Hagrid's beast is the monster, which I honestly doubt, then he must have some way of controlling it. Confronting him could set it off again."

"Besides," Theo chimes in, "Hagrid lives at Hogwarts. He's never lived anywhere else. Why would he risk the school closing?"

Hermione starts, as though she hadn't considered that. Aveline stares at her, wondering if trusting her with the basilisk secret was a wide idea. She had been worried that if she was attacked, there would be no one left to warn her friends and soul mates; what if Hermione can't keep quiet and blows the secret before she's met her father?

"I really, really don't think it's Hagrid. Hagrid is half giant, isn't he? It wouldn't make sense for him to hate Muggleborns," Neville agrees.

"So we wait," Luna says simply.

Aveline releases a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

* * *

Days pass, then weeks, then entire months without another attack. In fact, the only strange thing to happen is a break-in to the boys' dormitory in the Gryffindor tower, wherein Harry's new omniscient journal goes missing.

Aveline is now absolutely positive that it's Ginny Weasley that's been possessed; after all, only a Gryffindor could have taken the journal from Harry. For their own pride and protection, the soulmates never shared House passwords.

Aveline, Hermione, and Theo pour over the new elective class lists for third year. Carefully, Aveline decides on Ancient Runes, Arithmancy, and Divination. The three of them decide to sign up together for the Magical Theory extracurricular club that meets once a week. Theo takes Muggle Studies, Arithmancy, and Care of Magical Creatures. Hermione, in a complete panic, rushes to McGonagall's office to inquire if she can possibly study all of the subjects independently.

Harry, meanwhile, is more focused on the upcoming Quidditch game with Hufflepuff the next day. It's a qualifying match for the Cup. The day dawns sunny and bright, warm in spite of the breeze.

"Perfect Quidditch conditions!" Wood enthuses.

"Hey Harry, maybe that dwarf will make up another song about you when we win," Fred winks from across the table. Harry throws what's left of his eggs at him.

"Oh, leave him be, Fred," Hermione sniffs, perusing her copy of the Prophet.

"I need to go grab my new broom grips, Sirius sent them by owl last week-" Harry mutters to Ron, when he freezes.

" _Let me kill… rip… tear…"_

"That voice!" Harry shouts, and then lowers his own. He glances at Rom and Hermione, opens the link wide to Draco and Aveline. "The voice is back."

Hermione frowns. "I've got to go," and up from the table she dashes.

"When in doubt, go to the library," Ron shrugs.

Harry retrieves his broom grips, making his way down to the pitch with the large crowds of students, visiting parents, and teachers. Worry knots his stomach. That voice had not sounded for months, and now it sounds more vicious than ever.

He tries to comfort himself by telling himself that everyone in the castle is here watching the game. He's about to kick into the sky and make a round of the pitch when he notices McGonagall, in her favorite bright purple robes, come half-marching, half-running to the pitch. She rushes to the middle of it, then points her wand at her own throat.

"This match has been cancelled," she announces. Harry's stomach drops like a stone as the spectators all boo and jeer. Sirius and Remus shift closer to Severus in the stands, faces hard.

When Harry lands, Ron has already been beckoned by McGonagall. "There's something the two of you need to see. There's been another attack; a _double_ attack," she says.

* * *

Hermione lays Petrified on the Hospital Wing bed.

In her hand, reflecting her horrified face, is that small, circular mirror.

Next to her lay Penelope Clearwater, a Ravenclaw prefect.

"That's every House with a student down but Slytherin," Harry whispers, feeling guilty for saying it as he does.

Severus, inexplicably in the Wing to check on Hermione, turns sharply to stare at him, before looking resolutely back down at the frozen from of Hermione.

* * *

Hagrid is taken away by the Minister of Magic himself, Cornelius Fudge, and Dumbledore is banished by none other than Lucius Malfoy, acting as Governor of the School; he does not seem pleased about doing so, but he doesn't seem displeased either. Ron and Harry watch from under the Invisibility Cloak.

"Why couldn't it be follow the butterflies?" Ron groans.

* * *

"Your father's sent Dumbledore away," Aveline whispers.

Draco nods. "If ever there's going to be a time for you to meet your father without detection, it's soon, Aveline."

Aveline nods absentmindedly, staring into the depths of the Black Lake through the glass. "Yes, but at what cost?"


	15. Chapter 15

Aveline strokes the soft, frozen skin of her friend's hand a bit guiltily, and then takes the damning piece of paper from her hand.

Her own handwriting reads _pipes_.

She slips out of the Hospital Wing as Harry and Ron follow McGonagall in.

* * *

 _HER SKELETON WILL LIE IN THE CHAMBER FOREVER._

The bright red dripping words stay imprinted in Draco's mind. Ron Weasley is distraught. The Circle sits tightly around him, arms and hands and legs pressed together in an attempt at comfort.

"What do we do?" Theo asks quietly. His voice is so calm.

"Great time for Hermione to get Petrified, isn't it? She would know," Neville groans.

All Draco can think about is the day Mairead died. Molly Weasley had been the first to arrive on the scene, taking care of his soulmate, taking care of Luna. How had he repaid her? By allowing her daughter to go around possessed for an entire school year, unnoticed.

Aveline, sensing the direction of his thoughts, includes her own mournful images of Christmas at the Weasley household, Quidditch games, invitations sent back and forth between their families. She feels frozen inside; the cold feeling she hasn't experienced since Azkaban comes crawling back up her spine.

What is right and what is wrong? For so long, she has thought that fulfilling her own agenda is the only right. Now, she's not so sure.

Harry is full of anger at himself. The heat of it battles Aveline's cold. Flashes of memories run through his head; Ginny looking tired after a full night of rest, Ginny's red hair coming out of her head and falling to dust her robes, Ginny's never-ending string of illnesses.

"Why didn't we ever include her in the Circle? She's Luna's best friend. She's my little sister. She should have been included," Ron snarls for the thousandth time.

"Even being in the Circle couldn't have prevented a monster from taking her, Ron," Aveline says, trying to make her voice gentle.

"We've got to get her back, obviously!" Blaise says. "There's nothing else to be done. The teachers obviously aren't interested in doing anything, they're focused on shutting the school down tomorrow-"

"I overheard Severus asking Lockhart to deal with it; he didn't sound as though he thought our esteemed professor was very capable." Aveline bites her lip. She can see the gears turning in everyone's heads. What is she supposed to do if her secret is revealed by her father's younger self in front of the entire Circle?

"Including Ginny, there's ten of us," Draco says slowly.

Blaise is already nodding. "And with Lockhart, there'd be eleven."

"Aveline just said that Lockhart is incompetent," Ron hisses.

"Exactly, Ronald," Luna nods, her eyes ever wide.

* * *

Harry speaks Parseltongue to the carving on the sink in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. It would be an almost comical sight if their hearts weren't pounding so hard, in perfect tandem. Aveline resists the urge to reach out for Harry. They've been so distant since this Chamber madness started. Will meeting her father's memory have even more of an impact?

The sink slides away, revealing a large tunnel. It is almost straight down, but there's enough of an incline that they can probably slide.

"See here, all, I'm not about to go down there! What's happened to your sister, Wendell-"

"It's Weasley," Ron snarls.

"Right, er, what happened to your sister, Wheeley, is a great tragedy, but she's already gone. There's nothing I could possibly do." Lockhart finishes decisively, moving as if to leave the bathroom.

Theo and Blaise step forward as one, wands moving to shove Lockhart backward. "You'll definitely go down there, and you'll go first!"

"After all," Luna adds pleasantly, "we need to make certain _we_ won't be sliding feet first into the monster's mouth."

Behind them all, guarding the door, Neville whimpers. He hadn't thought of that.

"If you live and we get caught, we'll tell the other professors you dragged us down there with you. If we don't, which is honestly much more likely considering we'll be thousands of meters below the school, you can leave Hogwarts and we won't go public with how much of a fraud you are."

"You have no proof of that!" In the dim light, Lockhart's sweaty red face seems almost purple. He doesn't seem to consider that Ginny will likely need medical attention and the other professors will find out about this one way or another.

"We don't need proof," Aveline shrugs. "We have the Malfoys on our side."

Lockhart pales so quickly it's a wonder he doesn't faint.

"Right then," he says quickly.

He turns around and he jumps.

Draco and Aveline share a smirk.

They listen to Lockhart's squeals as he slides, and slides, and slides. Finally he hits what's presumably the bottom with a dull thud. The Circle listens intently.

"It is _quite_ filthy down here," Lockhart calls up the tunnel.

They all grin.

"Right," Harry nods determinedly. "Neville, you're to remain here by the opening. Once we retrieve Ginny, you can Summon us all, or use _Winguardium_ to get us back up. If one of us calls for backup, slide down yourself and we'll figure out another way up or just crawl as best we can. _Do not_ get another professor, Neville, we'll all likely be expelled."

Neville nods, pale and scared but just as determined as Harry. Aveline wonders if maybe there's some merit to Gryffindors after all.

Harry is the first to slide down, followed closely by Ron, Draco, and Aveline. The darkness of the tunnel envelopes them, the pinprick of light above them obscured by the sliding bodies of Theo, Blaise, and Luna. The details of Neville's face fade away.

They land with various _oofs_. Bones break their fall, scattered about the Chamber floor. Aveline picks herself up as soon as possible, moving out of the way. Blaise and Theo come tumbling after; Harry and Ron wait near the entrance to catch Luna, as she's the smallest and most likely to get injured.

"We're in another ruddy tunnel," Draco groans.

Lockhart has managed to light the sconces on the wall. The handles look like snakes. Aveline takes a deep breath. They match the one on her thigh, the one her father placed as the centerpiece of his own Dark Mark.

"I think you should just turn right around and crawl right back up, children. This is quite enough," Lockhart orders.

"You think? That's surprising," Blaise snickers, waving Lockhart's wand teasingly.

Suddenly Lockhart lunges. Ron is nearest, having wondered to the other side of the dim tunnel. Lockhart tackles him, sending them both to the floor; Lockhart grabs Ron's wand.

"Won't it just be absolutely tragic that the beast managed to slay the girl? Naturally, I will have defeated it; but unfortunately I had no idea that nine little second years followed me, and _lost their minds_ at the sight of her mangled corpse." Lockhart growls at them. Aveline freezes as the others begin to run. Staying still has always been her reaction to stress.

 _Aveline, move your arse, now!_

It is Harry's abrupt entrance into her mind that spurns her to move. She hears Lockhart cast a memory charm, hears the backfire of Ron's faulty wand. She barely manages to catch up to the others when the rocks fall.

The tunnel is split neatly in two; boulders piled on top of boulders block their way back to Ron. Aveline looks wildly around; everyone else had managed to make it far enough. After being thrown to the ground by Lockhart, Ron never had a chance.

"Ron?!" Harry yells. "Ron, can you hear me?"

There's a terrible moment of silence, and then, "Yeah, I'm fine. Lockhart's spell rebounded though. He's completely loopy!"

They're about to reply when Ron adds, "And my stupid wand is split in two!"

"Ron, call for Neville! The two of you can work on clearing a path. We'll go get Ginny," Draco calls.

Ron doesn't sound happy, but he agrees.

Thankfully, the wall sconces are still lit when they turn as one to continue down the tunnel. The rock walls are carved, but coated in something slimy. Aveline's blood turns to ice when they find a shed snake skin longer than the Quidditch pitch.

"Oh shite," Blaise breathes, and they all nod in agreement.

Finally they reach a large door; snakes are carved in circles along the edges and in the center of it. The lock seems ancient and rusted.

" _Open_ ," Harry snarls in Parseltongue again.

The door does.

Immediately, Blaise and Theo shift into a dueling stance. Outside of Lockhart's failed little club, they had joined Severus and Remus for private lessons as well. It has served them. Harry and Draco, in the front, do the same; Aveline shifts to stand in front of Luna, wand at her side.

As the door swings open, the true Chamber is revealed. The room is marked by stone paths that seem to float on top of a shiny green pool of water. The water has flooded the far end; crumbling stone supports a crumbling statue, more than fifty yards high, of Salazar Slytherin himself. His eyes are creepily empty; two black holes lead to more tunnels. Tunnels branch off, in fact, in every direction. Curiosity pierces Aveline. There's no telling the amount of knowledge, Dark objects, and wealth hidden away down here.

"Ginny!" Harry cries.

There, in the center of the flooded end of the room, lies the pale form of Ginny Weasley. She is so small, so wasted away, that Aveline hadn't even noticed her upon first inspection of the room. Seeing no immediate threat, they all rush forward. Luna somehow outpaces them all, falling to her knees next to Ginny's head. Her red hair, soaked through entirely, looks like a blood stain.

"Ginny? Ginny! Wake up," Luna begs, but Ginny lies still. She is so pale Aveline wonders if she's still breathing.

Theo apparently wonders the same thing. With round eyes full of unshed tears, he leans forward. His long black hair obscures his face as he presses two fingers to her neck. Finally, he nods. Several people sigh in relief at once.

"We should go; she needs Madame Pomfrey," Blaise murmurs.

"Madame Pomfrey, though lovely, won't help her now," a voice sounds from behind them.

They whirl to find Tom Riddle himself smirking down at them. Aveline feels as though she's choking on air; how is this possible?

"Tom Riddle," Harry gasps. She wishes he would keep his mouth shut. Draco, knowing what Harry does not, steps in front of him protectively.

"Harry Potter," Tom nods. He's dressed in Slytherin robes; his hair is neat. He seems to be becoming more solid somehow. Aveline wonders about this, until she glances back at Ginny; as Ginny dies, her soul is being sucked… where?

Aveline looks harder, and there, under a film of water, lies the diary.

 _Of course_.

The diary glows black, a black deeper than darkness or death. A thin silver thread that grows darker connects the diary to Ginny. It's literally sucking out her soul to feed Tom Riddle's. Aveline's father may return in a corporeal form after all; he will only be four years older than her if he succeeds tonight.

"What have you done to Ginny?" Theo demands.

Riddle snickers. "It's not what I did to _Ginny_ ; it's what I have done, and will do, to _all_ Mudbloods and blood traitors. You see, children, it was _I_ that opened the Chamber fifty years ago. I am the Heir of Salazar Slytherin."

Riddle's dark eyes rest on Aveline for a moment. She seems to wilt as she meets his gaze; his human face is much more similar to hers than the mangled body others had always described. He's handsome, aristocratic, and beautiful even. His face holds that same otherworldly expression that hers does.

She finds herself about to take a step forward, entranced by him, before his eyes slide away from hers and he continues.

"I unleashed Slytherin's monster upon the school; after the death of that silly little girl, it became clear that Hogwarts couldn't be my first battle ground. They'd shut it down-"

Aveline can sense Harry's mind working furiously in the background of her own. He interrupts Riddle. "And you didn't want to return to the orphanage! So you _framed_ Hagrid!"

Riddle seems irritated at being interrupted. He raises one cool eyebrow. "Oh, yes, I did. Hagrid was an oaf with no future anyway. But I have always had a future. I had to protect it; so I left behind a memory of myself, tucked away in a diary. The diary wound up with Ginny this year, and I'm ever so glad it did. She poured her soul out to me… and I lapped it right up. Her soul is simply _delicious_. And now I can return, using her energy, to carry out my destiny!"

With this, Riddle waves his fingers through the air. Glittering letters appear.

 _TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE._

He waves them again. Aveline watches in fascination as the letters shimmer and change. What spell is this? What can this boy, her father, teach her?

 _I AM LORD VOLDEMORT._

"My mother was a Pureblood witch, descended from Salazar Slytherin himself; but she was weak. She fell for a Muggle man, and together they created me. But the world now knows that I am the greatest sorcerer in the world; the world now fears my name!"

Next to her, she can hear Blaise muttering "Oh Merlin, oh Merlin, oh _Merlin_ -"

She can't help but agree with his sentiments.

" _SHUT UP_ ," Theo whispers to him.

"You must be mistaken. Dumbledore is the greatest wizard of our time. It's a common fact," Harry snarls.

Aveline and Draco both glance sharply at him. It _is_ a common fact, but there is loyalty under Harry's tone. Is he loyal to Dumbledore as headmaster, or something else?

"Dumbledore isn't here to save you," Riddle grins.

"He's not as gone as you think!"

There is a flash of fire far above them. Fawkes appears in the flames, twisting and turning in a brilliant display of yellow, orange, and red. With him, he carries the Sorting Hat.

Aveline blinks. Oh, surely that's not all-

Tom Riddle laughs at the rather pathetic display of help. Through his chuckles, he speaks.

" _Kill them."_

Aveline stands frozen in horror as she feels the stone rumble beneath her feet. Behind her, the hiss of snake skin sliding against rock sounds. It fills her ears. All she can hear is the hungry murmurings of a millennial basilisk.

"Run," she breathes.

The others take her warning to heart. Harry snatches up the Sorting Hat and sprints down a tunnel. Draco grabs Luna; Fawkes follows them into a tunnel opposite the one Harry just took. Theo sprints one way, Blaise the other. Then it is just her and her father. The basilisk slithers past her, not sparing her even a glance. The green of its scales are almost entrancing. Aveline keeps her eyes down until its head is past.

Somehow, she knows she was not included in the kill order.

She looks up, watches the great snake sniff out her friends and soul mates. It is confused at first, but then goes after Theo.

"Hello, daughter," Riddle says, catching her attention once more. He's sizing her up like a piece of meat. He circles her slowly.

She puts her wand away. Her power is not in silly second-year level Light spells; and Dark rarely works well against Dark.

"Hello, Father," she says with a small smirk that matches his own. "Though you appear now as my brother."

"I was quite pleased when you survived my attempt at possession," he continues as though she hadn't spoken. "I thought perhaps I could come back through you, but your will is too strong. So now I wish to test you."

She has barely a moment before he breathes fire at her. His breath turns to flames in midair; they catch and expand as they fly toward her, their heat all consuming. Aveline throws her hands up, creating a wall of water. The water sizzles but holds its form when the flames hit it.

He does not pause as he throws more magic at her, this time some type of curse. Her water shield explodes, the force of it pushing her backward. She is thrown through the air, body spinning. More curses are thrown her way at the same time.

Frantically, Aveline wills the water of the green pool underneath of her to rush up and catch her. It does, and she twists inside of it, letting it cover her completely. As she falls into the pool, she makes ripples rather than a splash. Water closes in all around her. She's entirely cocooned by it, sinking beneath.

Aveline opens her eyes, not really understanding when she shut them. She tries to think through the sudden lack of air. Any second now, her father will throw more curses at her through the water. Emeralds, real emeralds, line the pool. They form the entire bottom, sifting and shifting in the current she created. She has only a moment to be stunned by their shimmering beauty, and then she grins.

 _Emeralds are earth_.

Aveline thrusts her hands out through the water, and then raises them. Her power sings in her veins. Her marks surface. Her lungs burn, but it doesn't matter. Her power is propelling her up to the surface; the gems follow, pushing at her legs, scraping them as they fly past.

She breaks the surface, her power launching her into the air. She has to create an air current to float her softly back to the stone path. The emeralds launch themselves at her father with extreme speed. It's gorgeous, the twisting furious creature they seem to create as they shove him to the other side of the entire Chamber. The door squeaks as Tom flies into it, landing in a rather undignified heap.

From one of the tunnels, she can hear Blaise and Theo screaming.

She has no idea if this will work, or if the basilisk will obey her if it does, but she has to try.

Aveline whispers in Parseltongue, " _To me_."

It would be almost amusing if they didn't sound so hysterical; Blaise and Theo's screams trail off anticlimactically into expressions of confusion. " _AAAAAAAAHHHHHHaaahhhh…ah_?"

It takes several moments for Tom Riddle to scramble to his feet.

His daughter smiles.

* * *

Harry is panting, heart pounding, trying to figure out where Blaise and Theo's screams are coming from. He's listening as hard as he can; the basilisk must have gone after them first. The tunnels twist and twine, one entrance leading to another exit leading to another entrance. He tries to find Draco and Aveline in his mind, but all is chaos. He gets flashes of dark rock, the kind he himself is surrounded by, and… green water?

" _AAAAAAAAHHHHHHaaahhhh…ah_?"

Harry's own confusion melds with Blaise's and Theo's. He rounds a corner blindly, and smacks into a very solid form. He cries out, hearing a girl do the same, before he slams down into rock. The Sorting Hat flies out of his hand.

Fawkes squawks as Draco curses, helping Luna to her feet.

"Oh thank Merlin, thought I'd never find anybody in this mess. Where's the basilisk?" Draco rushes.

"Not sure," Harry rasps.

"Put the hat on, Harry," Luna advises. She's covered in grime. It streaks her nearly white hair.

Harry squints at her in the dark. "Do _what_?"

"Well, Fawkes must have brought it along for a reason," Luna shrugs.

Harry snatches the hat on the ground, plopping it on his head. Luna is a Ravenclaw, after all. Surely-

Something very heavy and metal hits Harry on the head.

He winces, yanking the hat off and reaching inside. He pulls out a sword.

Draco's silver eyes are wide. "Well, that's certainly handy."

* * *

Blaise and Theo stand next to one another, certainly not holding hands in the face of being eaten, entirely brave and unaffected. They turn only to watch the basilisk lose sudden interest in them. It slips away through the dark tunnels, entirely unconcerned with them any longer.

" _AAAAAAAAHHHHHHaaahhhh…ah_?"

They stare at each other for several moments, gasping, until Theo finally says, "Come on. I have an idea."

Blaise decides he's not going to complain when Theo leads him at a dead sprint out of the Chamber entirely. He doesn't have time to question Tom Riddle- the Dark Lord- _whoever_ \- picking himself up out of a pile of… are those _emeralds?_

* * *

"One last rock," Neville sighs happily, raising his wand to move it to the side with the rest of the boulders. There must have been three dozen blocking the path.

" _Hey! HEEYY_!" The voices sound from the other side of the tunnel, frantic and out of breath.

Ron and Neville share a look. Ron's fingers itch without his wand. He hates being defenseless.

"Ron, Neville, hey!" Theo rounds a corner, followed closely by Blaise. "Levitate some boulders. Come on, we've got to hurry!"

"What about me? My wand couldn't levitate a pebble," Ron moans.

Theo looks at him incredulously. "You have _arms_ don't you?"

* * *

When Tom Riddle throws fire at his daughter again, she catches it.

It's child's play, really, easier than little-league Quidditch. The fire rushes around her, creating a tempest of flame, before spreading to create a large square in the center of the circular room. The basilisk slithers to her, drawing in its tail just as the flames enclose.

Riddle glances around, trying not to appear concerned about the ten meter wall of flame now separating him from the rest of the Chamber. The basilisk slithers as close as it can to the edges, wild eyed and trying to escape. Its head jerks back and forth.

" _Let me out! Let me RIP! Let me KILL!"_

Aveline ignores its tantrum for now.

 _Aveline, let us through! We can't kill it and save Ginny if you don't!_ Harry's voice sounds in her head. Ah yes, Ginny. In all the commotion, she had nearly forgotten.

Aveline whirls on her heel, falls to her knees, and presses her fingers to Ginny's limp wrist. There's a pulse there, but it's faint. There's not much time. Aveline sends a mental image to Harry and Draco; the eye of Salazar Slytherin. She hopes they understand her meaning. She doesn't have the time or energy to say words.

She stands and turns back to face Tom. "It's taking you an awfully long time to suck the life out of an eleven year old."

Tom seems mildly irritated at the reminder that Ginny isn't dead yet. He sighs. "Yes, well, she's a complicated eleven year old."

Aveline raises an eyebrow. "And has the twelve year old lived up to your expectations?

Tom smiles; it sends her damp skin rushing into goose bumps. "Oh, indeed. I'm quite impressed. Still, your Elemental magic comes naturally to you. I'd like to see something else. Perhaps I should give you true motivation."

He raises his hand. Aveline winces.

" _Crucio!"_

" _Expecto Patronum!"_

It is one of the strongest Light spells she knows. She's never been able to master it. She closes her eyes, waiting for the pain to hit.

It never does.

Her father's curse refracts off the silvery light of a creature taking form mid-air. It hits him directly, sending him to his knees in agony. A bright centaur gallops from the end of Aveline's wand. She doesn't even remember _drawing_ her silly wand. The centaur is a female, long hair and long tail flowing out behind her. Aveline watches in amazement as she bounds across the Chamber, firing arrows from a bow that the basilisk hisses and bites at.

In the next instant, several things happen at once.

Several boulders come flying _through_ her conjured fire wall, smoking as they hit the pool, the path, and slam into Riddle. Aveline herself has to dodge several, sending her Patronus flying into silvery smoke. From above her, Harry, Draco, and Luna hurl themselves out of Salazar Slytherin's eye, directly onto the head and back of the basilisk.

Draco loses his footing almost immediately at the wild thrashing of the basilisk. He falls into a pool with a loud splash. Luna clings to its tail, pounding desperately at it in an effort to distract it from Harry, who is on its snout.

Harry has somehow managed to procure an entire sword. The Sorting Hat hangs from his belt underneath his robes. Aveline watches, feeling as though the scene is happening in slow motion, as Harry stabs through the top of the basilisk's head, killing it instantly. He falls, instinctively trying to cling at anything he can to slow his descent. It is a mistake. The sword rips through half of the basilisk's face, snagging Harry's arm on several teeth as they both fall.

The sword lands with a clang.

Aveline is frozen. She knows what she should do, but she cannot.

Thankfully, the decision is out of her hands.

"Harry, here!" Draco yells from behind her. He has managed to climb out of the pool. He holds the diary in his hands. It stains them an inky black.

Harry, unable to reach the sword, picks up a dislodged basilisk fang and throws it to Draco. Before she can stop him or say a word, before Tom can recover from the curse and the flaming boulder, Draco catches the fang and plunges it into the center of the diary.

There is a terrible screaming from Riddle, one she will never forget, as she watches the memory of the man that created her rip apart at the seams, great holes and wounds appearing whenever Draco stabs the diary.

And then it is over. The diary becomes a much damaged, yet very normal, book. Riddle is gone.

Aveline watches as Ginny Weasley sits straight up with her eyes flying open, taking a large strangled breath.

* * *

"Fawkes healed my arm, and then flew us back to the surface in groups, professor," Harry says, his voice ragged from the events of the night.

He sits next to Sirius. They both have their eyes trained on Professor McGonagall's flabbergasted face.

"You killed a thousand year old basilisk on your _own_ , Potter?!"

Harry barely refrains from rolling his eyes. "No. All _nine_ of us helped kill it. I'm sure Ginny would have helped too, had she been able."

"And you maintain that Lockhart held you all at wand point, forced you into the Chamber as monster bait, you all ambushed him once in the Chamber and in the confusion, you managed to wrest Lockhart's wand from him… but he then grabbed Mr. Weasley's, and the curse he cast rebounded upon himself, turning him…" McGonagall trails off, her mind clearly blown.

"Yes, professor, that's what happened," Neville nods calmly. Aveline breathes a sigh of relief.

"They're all very lucky. Ginny needed attention from Madam Pomfrey, but will otherwise be fine. I recommend the children all get cleaned up, receive some snacks, and pack to go home for the end of the year," Dumbledore says quietly.

His eyes follow each of the children out of the room. The raised voices of their respective parents and guardians follow them out.

* * *

Aveline whispers to Harry late at night. How she sneaked into the Gryffindor Tower, she'll never tell.

"You were amazing down there," Harry says again.

The golden glow of their bond fills his closed bed curtains. Aveline lies with her head against Harry's shoulder. Her fingers trace the thin white scar left by the basilisk fang.

"I can't believe you jumped on its head," she says again.

She replays the image in her head, slow motion and everything. Soon they've both dissolved into giggles. Draco stirs from his sleep in the dungeons below only momentarily; their adventures completely exhausted him. Besides, he prizes his beauty rest.

Aveline falls somber as she remembers what she came up here to tell him. "Oh, Harry. I forgot. There's something you need to know. It's about Lucius."

* * *

Harry sets Dobby free, and then he faces Lucius.

Lucius's face is a mixture of righteous anger, shock, and a begrudging sense of being impressed. Harry smiles up at him sweetly.

"We're not sure how, but we know you had something to do with the diary, and we know you're _definitely_ responsible for me being sent back to the Dursley's cupboard _on my birthday._ "

Lucius's face melts to befuddlement and fear before settling into a frozen mask.

"Be careful, Mr. Malfoy."

Dobby cheerfully skips out of Hogwarts, right next to Harry, levitating his bags all the while.


	16. Chapter 16

Aveline sits quietly in Ciaran's library. As has become tradition, she's spending the first two weeks of her vacation here.

After a day or two of persuasion, Aveline had successfully wrangled Severus into going back down into the Chamber of Secrets. His modest office in this fake home of theirs has a Floo link directly to his office at Hogwarts. They use this to sneak in and out under Dumbledore's nose.

Artifacts lay in front of her, fascinating and rather mundane all at once. There are grading rosters of the first classes of Hogwarts, very old peacock feather quills with the plumage missing, books with the leather binding falling apart.

Day by day, they pick apart the Chamber, discovering rooms hidden inside the stone tunnels. Aveline had been surprised when Severus had handed her no less than three basilisk fangs, telling her to keep them somewhere safe.

Now she sits and reads through some of the books they'd found in an adjoining library. Most of the books are Dark. Severus had cast modern preservation spells on the original library, and then made copies of each of them to bring back to the library here at Ciarian. Aveline can't wait to show Hermione; she'll go nuts.

The next book is almost too much to stomach. The magic described has since become illegal, granting the longest sentences in Azkaban to those that perform it. As she reads, however, Aveline becomes intrigued. There are descriptions of blood magic, the body as tool, the soul as vessel.

Slowly, Aveline gets to her feet, carrying the book with her. She winds through the white marble corridors until she arrives at Severus's office. He's sitting behind his desk, dressed in his usual black ensemble. She stares at him, this man that she trusts. He had been furious with her for going down to the Chamber without telling him. He was bound to protect her, and she had broken that bond very willingly.

"I have a question," she announces softly.

He glances up from his translations. He had volunteered to make English copies of the older Gaelic, Welsh, and Latin books they had found. Some are even in the forgotten runic language of the ancient Druids and Romans. She's very proud of him, that he's able to do this longhand. She wonders if her father taught him.

"Now you wish to ask my opinion?" he asks wryly, one eyebrow lifted.

Aveline sighs. "How long are you going to make me grovel? Severus, I've apologized. I just wanted to meet him, and now that I have…"

Aveline sees Tom's dark eyes in her mind, the jawline so similar to hers. _Is she a sociopath like him?_

She shudders the question away, then continues meaningfully. "Now that I have, I believe I've only managed to meet a _part_ of him. Look."

Severus stands and rounds his desk to inspect her book. He sees the chapter title in bold and blanches; _Horcruxes._

Finally, he raises his eyes to meet hers. "I believe you may be right."

* * *

" _Tom," Ginny breathes. Her breath rises as steam in front of her. The air of the Chamber is always so very cold._

 _The first time he had appeared to her outside of the diary, he had looked like this; ghostly, flickering, almost like a demon shrouded in shadows. She studies him, his pale skin and dark eyes. She can't help herself; she steps into his arms._

 _Her red hair looks like blood, sliding over his arms and hands as he wraps them around her. She feels a faint beat inside his chest where his heart should be, only occurring at a third of the rate of her own._

" _I missed you," he whispers into her ear. When his tongue flicks against her skin, it's split down the middle like a snake's._

 _She wants to tell him she's missed him too. She wants to tell him she hates him. She wants to ask him to make another diary. She wants him to die right here against her._

" _I understand," he breathes, and her stomach lurches in terror when she realizes he really does. He_ _ **is**_ _her; she is him. She will never be free again._

" _There's one way you can be free," Tom contradicts her._

 _He pulls out his wand; the tip of it glows greener than the sheen of the Chamber._

 _Ginny starts screaming and does not stop._

"Mum, it's happening again!" Either Fred or George. She's not sure. Someone somewhere is wailing. Her throat is burning. She can't breathe; why can't she breathe?

"Stop. Ginny, stop! Calm down." Ah, yes. She's the one wailing at the top of her lungs, waking the entire household.

"Please, no, please, no," she gasps. She's not sure what she's protesting or pleading for. Is she begging the fear to go away? Is she alternately begging Tom to end her life or spare it? Did she hate the dream, or does she want to return to it?

The panic builds inside of her. It feels like the crashing of waves during a storm, sucking her under. Magic builds in response to protect her.

It happens as her mother rushes into her room, her father not far behind. There is something like a fissure inside her that cracks the fear neatly in two, ending it. The fissure expands, sending a shock-wave of red sparkling magic through the room. Ginny's floorboards, her bed, the panels of her wall all fly apart only to land perfectly back together. The globe of magic stays, tossing Fred and George outside of it; they had been at the foot of her bed, trying to calm her.

Through her tears, she sees her mother's hands fly to her throat. Her father makes an odd choking sound. Is her globe sucking at their magic too, or is it only shock?

Once reoriented to her own bedroom, Ginny relaxes. The magic ebbs and flows back to its usual distant hum. The red protective globe shrinks until it disappears.

By now, Percy and Ron have appeared next to her father. Ginny stares at the mattress, fingers methodically picking at a loose thread in her quilt.

"Arthur," her mother finally says, voice barely more than a whisper. Is this what she has reduced the great loud Molly Weasley to? Frightened whispers in her own daughter's bedroom?

"Yes, dear?"

"Owl Sirius immediately."

Her father turns on his heel, unable to meet her eyes.

* * *

Sirius studies Harry, playing a Muggle video game in their flat. It had taken some innovation on his and Remus's part, but the game had finally worked even in the presence of magic. The flat is becoming kind of cramped with the two of them, especially with Harry growing into a teenager. He doesn't want to admit that, though. He likes the coziness of it, the fact that they've lived here together since bringing Harry home.

Even with Harry practically punching the console with his thumbs all morning, Sirius still holds the high score. He snickers quietly to himself when Harry curses at the telly, unaware he's being watched.

 _Gods,_ but he's so like James.

With thoughts of James comes thoughts of Lily, and with thoughts of Lily come thoughts of another little redheaded girl, too powerful for her own good.

 _We fear she is growing Dark_ , her own father had written.

Ha! As if Ginevra Weasley could ever go Dark in a family as renowned for the Light as hers. No, more likely it was residual trauma from her possession. Regulus used to have outbursts of magic too, after a particularly grueling day or two in the Black household. Ginny reminds him of his little brother sometimes; she didn't always, but he sees the pain and resentment behind her eyes now.

Sirius knows what will eventually have to happen. He can't avoid the Place forever, but he can sure as hell try to stall.

He picks up a quill and begins a reply.

* * *

Hermione's mother slides effortlessly from English to French, inquiring about the price of bread at this little marketplace. Her father, however, never quite mastered the language, and so bumbles his way through asking about various assorted cheeses.

Taking a holiday in France had been her idea. She'd written to her parents close to the beginning of second year about a fascinating tidbit she'd learned in History of Magic; not from Binns, of course, but from a footnote in her textbook. Dijon, France had supposedly been the site of the Beedle story _The Fountain of Fair Fortune_. Even the name of the city, _Dijon_ , supposedly means "sacred fountain". After her parents had researched the rich history of wine-making and vineyards in the area, it had taken little to convince them to make a stop here on their way to the warm beaches of southern France.

"You'll be alright this evening, won't you? We'll try not to stay out too late, but you know your father." Her mother sidles up to her, throwing an arm around her. Hermione sighs happily, leaning into her. Before Hogwarts, she had often thought of her mother as her best friend; they have the same taste in music and literature, the same preference for pastels over bright colors, the same sense of humor. Her logic and rationale she obtains from her father.

"Your mother is lying; she's the one that likes to stay out late," Hermione's father snickers, approaching them with the cheese he'd managed to obtain from the vendor.

"Of course I'll be alright," Hermione nods confidently. Here, surrounded by so much history, architecture, and the golden rays of the fading sun, she feels normal. Lazy crowds sift through the streets, each small unit of people making their way to homes or hotels. It's too early for the pubs to be crowded yet.

Here, Hermione can be just one small individual inside the masses, a tiny tick mark against the greater count of humanity. What a beautiful place it is, too, the pointed red roofs glinting in her peripheral vision.

"I want to visit _musée_ _archéologique de Dijon_ in their twilight hours, and then I'll probably go back to the hotel to read those books I found yesterday."

"That sounds like a lovely plan," her mother nods approvingly.

Hermione does not mention that there is a reserved hidden section of the museum for members of the magical community only. Much of Dijon is occupied by witches and wizards, enclosed in gated communities surrounding the historical city center and outskirts. Many of the Roman ruins found in the city had been excavated, and then magically duplicated and altered, made to look like ordinary remains of ordinary lives while their magical counterparts are tucked away elsewhere.

Hermione can't wait to see those ruins; at one time, she may not have been so invested, but now she has Aveline and the Circle. Ancient blood magic, the magical release of the energy of animal sacrifice, the remnants of ancient wards placed around ancient homes and public buildings, all called to her not only for the knowledge alone, but because perhaps the past and present could be more similar.

Things that are controversial appeal to her now. She's not sure if that should frighten her or not. Who is she, really? A strange girl with strange power, dressed in light summer clothing walking along with her parents, pretending not to be lured by the thought of the ancients and the mysteries of time, humanity, life and death?

It takes her parents awhile to get ready for their evening of wine tasting and dining. She watches her mum put on a dark burgundy lipstick – "Get it, Hermione? Because we're _in_ Burgundy!"- and hopes that someday she is half as beautiful as her. Her father crosses his tie with precision, though somehow it always turns out crooked. Hermione suspects it's because he likes it when her mother straightens it.

"Are you ready, Jeannine?" her father asks.

"Yes, of course, Robert," her mother nods.

"Wait! Let me take your picture," Hermione cries when they near the door. The light from the setting sun falls _just so_ on her mother's bare shoulders, the dark brown of her dress contrasting with the light on her skin. She loves when her parents dress up; usually they appear to her in their scrubs from the dentist office.

They obligingly pose near the door of their hotel room, smiling and holding onto one another. Her dad whispers something silly into her mum's ear. Hermione smiles and wonders if Colin could magically doctor the photo for her later, replay this moment over and over.

When they leave, Hermione slips on a dress of her own. It is long and black, made of thin material to keep the heat at bay but to hide the glint of her pale skin in the dark. If she's correct about all of her theories, no one can notice her in the night, slipping into places she's not supposed to be.

It takes her nearly two hours in the archeology museum, waiting on the last rays of light to slip below the horizon, to carefully note the runes that she needs. She's woefully underprepared with just the knowledge of the third year curriculum under her belt; the introductory textbook doesn't quite live up to her standards, but she'll have to make do. Besides, it was the books on ancient runes Aveline had sent her, pilfered from Salazar himself that had started this obsession of hers.

When she is certain night has well and truly fallen, she slips out of the back service door of the museum.

The Fountain of Fair Fortune had been around for centuries before Beedle the Bard bothered to write a fable about it. Rome had conquered this area of France long before, and from all corners of that great Empire had the people with the means to travel come for their shot at being chosen by the Fountain. By the time of Beedle's birth in the fifteenth century, it had all but disappeared from history, only a few dozen curious travelers bothering to search it out at all. The myth had inspired the story, and many had combed the Roman ruins of Dijon for clues, but few had made any connections.

That is, few until Hermione.

She sidesteps laughing tourists, shady vendors, food carts, and excited children, making her way to the oldest park in Dijon as inconspicuously as she can. When she finds the gateway, hidden by wards older than anything she's ever encountered, she can scarcely believe it. _She'd been right._

Her heart feels as though it's about to beat out of her chest. Trees surround her, the bushes and undergrowth at the edge of the park hiding her from the view of anyone walking the wide and well-lit path. The Romans had built an arch thousands of years before that served as the entrance to the newer park; now she stands, trying not to brush irritating leaves off her arm or hyperventilate from excitement, in front of an identical, yet smaller arch embedded against the remains of what appears to be an ancient fence.

Unable to take the itch anymore, Hermione tears her eyes away from the gateway and glances down at the plant that's ruining her moment. Her breath catches in her throat when she realizes that the strange thing, purple and swollen at the top with a surprisingly thin vine attached, has wrapped itself around her arm.

 _Creepers._

Hermione has only the time to suck in a sharp breath before they pull her through, the first witch in perhaps hundreds of years to be chosen by the Fountain.

* * *

"You're to spend a week with the Parkinson's, at least. Perhaps if you redeem yourself, they'll even offer you Pansy as a future match," Theo's father grumbles from across the darkened study, the fireplace the only source of sinister light.

Theo's heart sinks deep inside his chest, landing somewhere near his stomach.

Blaise looks up sharply, trying hard to keep his expression a steady neutral.

He tries to avoid Chiara's prying eyes.

"They'll likely have a few… guests while you're there. I order you to stay out of their way."

Theo is expected to say _yes, Father_ , but he doesn't. He doesn't say anything at all.

* * *

It is not a noise that awakens Neville, but rather a shiver in the wards of his family home. Technically, he is Head of House, his grandmother acting in his stead as regent until he comes of age. He can feel the wards at all times now, strong and steady in the back of his mind. Sometimes he thinks that is all that is strong or steady about him, but he remembers throwing burning rocks at the Dark Lord, and that stays with him just as much as the wards do.

His Gran likes for him to stay in bed when the infrequent occasion of a late-night visitor wakes him, but he's learning that while his Gran certainly wants what's best _for him_ , it's not always what's _best_. So Neville throws on a sweatshirt of Ron's that he'd left over here the other night- "Had to get out of the Burrow, mate, they're driving me _crazy_ , and poor Ginny-" because it is the closest, and he sneaks down the stairs to the ground level.

Remus Lupin paces back and forth in their drawing room, flames in the fireplace still glowing green from his recent Floo. His grandmother sits regally in a flamboyant blue dressing gown, silver hair-cap pulled tightly around her ears.

"I'm sorry to barge in on you like this, but I thought you ought to brace yourself before this gets out in the Prophet tomorrow," Lupin is saying.

"Thank you for thinking of us, Remus." There is a tremor in his Gran's voice that he's never heard before.

"Of course. I'm so sorry the Order- er, what's left of it- couldn't prevent this. We've been working with Kingsley for over a year, but-"

"People as awful as them never stay down for long. You must put those type down permanently." Now _there_ is the steel he knows is within his Gran!

"How do you think Neville will handle this?"

"My Neville is a strong boy. We knew the prophecy could have applied to him. We took what precautions we could, but we knew that ultimately it might not be enough. If Fate has deemed him strong enough to be a contender for a prophecy like that, he'll be strong enough to handle this."

"They'll be coming primarily for Harry and Aveline, but there's a chance Bellatrix will seek out Neville. Be _careful_."

Neville's blood turns to ice.

He decides he really should have stayed in bed.

* * *

Luna skips happily next to Harry, licking her ice cream cone contentedly. Muggle ice cream is very good, and they have such odd flavors. Who knew roads tasted so good?

"This is likely going to be the last large outing we have before school supply shopping at Diagon, so enjoy it," Sirius is telling them. "Those Death Eaters breaking out of Azkaban is one of the largest security risks our world has ever faced."

"We'll be careful, Padfoot," Harry says, but he's distracted, eyes wondering over the many displays in the store windows. The Dursleys never did take him shopping, so he gets a small thrill every time he's out and about in Muggle London. He and Luna have outgrown their bathing suits from the previous year; they'd been planning a trip to a Muggle water park with Aveline and Draco and Neville before the break-out. Muggle locations are still deemed somewhat safe; there's no way Death Eaters would think to look outside their own world, not yet. Especially not somewhere as hokey as a water park.

Aveline snickers through the link. She's been holed up all summer with Severus, studying. Harry thinks personally it's a waste of time; can't she just start studying with the rest of them in September? But he knows Hermione has been working hard all summer as well; her letters got very odd and scattered there for a while when she was in France with her parents. He hopes she got at least a little enjoyment out of her holiday.

 _Can you imagine a bunch of Death Eaters trying to figure out the mechanics of a Muggle entertainment center?_ Aveline is still giggling in his head, imagining the strange looks Death Eaters would attract passing through the entry line amongst a bunch of Muggles in swimming attire.

The little tension Harry carries from the crowded shopping center falls away. He grins, and replaces the Death Eaters in her mental image with the Malfoys, uncertain and sort of disgusted, excited but unwilling to admit it.

 _I'm trying to get Father into a pair of trunks with ducks on them,_ Draco informs them.

Sirius is observing his two charges, each lost in a world of their own, though he's certain Harry's is a bit more populated than Luna's. They're not small children anymore; today is Harry's thirteenth birthday. His party is this afternoon, complete with a dinner at the Burrow. Sirius is looking forward to checking up on Ginny; he's been working with her once a week on control and processing her possession. So far, she's overcoming it beautifully. There's untapped reserves of immense power in the girl, he's sure of it.

They've just turned a corner, heading for the next clothing store, when he hears it. It is a laugh Lily had mocked time and time again, high-pitched and breathy and ringing utterly false every time.

 _Petunia._

He moves to usher the kids back around the corner, but it's too late. Harry has stopped in the middle of the busy sidewalk, earning glares from the busy passersby.

"It's a wonderful thing that you managed to get rid of the boy, Vernon. Honestly, I wouldn't have kept him as long as you did."

With a sinking feeling, Sirius realizes they're talking about Harry. He can see them, just down the way, each awful Dursley and one extra to boot, a large woman with a mean air about her.

"Let's go, mate," Sirius says quietly, but Harry either cannot or will not move. Sirius glances down and realizes Harry's fingers are sparking at the tips.

 _Shite_.

Luna tugs on the short sleeve of Harry's shirt. "Come on, Harry, let's go. Those people are full of wriggly-digs."

Sirius isn't sure what a wriggly-dig is, but he's inclined to agree.

"He's at an academy for troubled youth now. I've heard they use a cane. I'm quite pleased at the type of education he'll be getting," Vernon blusters while Petunia helps Dudley comb through an outdoor rack of clothing under an awning.

"It's not your fault he turned out so poorly of course, dear," the large woman continues. "It's the same with dogs; if there's something wrong with the bitch, then there's something wrong with the pup. And besides, didn't you say his father was an unemployed drunkard? Figures. It's always the same with bad blood."

It happens before Sirius can stop it. The tears behind Harry's eyes fall, and at that exact moment, the sparks sizzling on his fingertips fizzle out in a wave of energy that sends a gust of wind down the street. Sirius watches in horror and fascination as the large woman grows larger and larger, shrieking and floating away into the sky.

Sirius casts a blanket Notice-Me-Not as soon as possible; the Muggles on the street, confused and afraid, quickly go back to what they were doing.

When he looks down, Harry is gone.


	17. Chapter 17

Ultimately, they follow the lion.

Upon seeing Harry had disappeared, Sirius had turned back to the large floating woman in the sky. Perhaps, if he could determine which direction the magic was still flowing from, he could determine which direction Harry had run.

In the brief instant he had looked down, and then back up, the accidental magic had taken form. Rather than being propelled along by an invisible force, the Dursley woman was encased in a glittering form. It took Sirius several moments to realize it was the form of a Patronus, a great silver lion that ran circles around the bloating target, carrying her farther and farther into the air.

Sirius had sprung into action, practically dragging poor Luna to the nearest Apparition point and Apparating immediately to Lupin's cottage.

Tracing the lion with the help of Kingsley leads them to the source of the magic; Harry had sprinted all the way to Diagon Alley, taking shelter in one of Tom's rooms.

Luna lingers in the doorway with Remus- he hadn't had time to deliver the girl back to Xeno- while Sirius hesitates on his knees next to the dusty bed.

How is it that he is the one that is about to coax James's son out from under a bed? What would James have done in this situation? How would Lily have held her child? Would his thirteenth birthday have been a happier one in that elusive alternate reality where his parents had lived to see it?

He shakes the feeling of massive ineptitude off. He can be nostalgic and bitter tomorrow. Today, he has to help Harry.

Sirius isn't sure what he's expecting to see under the bed, but what he finds isn't it. In the past, Harry had curled up in a very childish way, crying and sniffling. He could be calmed with sweets, or funny jokes, or in the worst cases, stories of his mother and father. Now, Sirius sees a gangly young man, the effects of childhood malnutrition only visible to those looking for them past the broadening of his shoulders and lengthening of his legs. Harry lies on his back, staring straight up at the bottom of the mattress. Only the shaking of his hands clues Sirius in on the amount of stress he's experiencing.

Sirius flounders for a moment; he has only just gotten good at soothing a crying child, and now he has to deal with a _sulking teenager?!_ He glances back at a worried Remus, and then immediately focuses on Harry again when he starts to speak.

"You know, I thought my Patronus might have been a bit more rugged than a glittering, prancing lion."

Sirius snorts in shocked amusement. "Yes, well, there's nothing more rugged and full of machismo than hiding under a nasty inn bed, mate."

Harry turns his head to the side to glare at Sirius for a moment, and then sighs, returning his gaze to the mattress. "Yeah, that's a decent point. Thing is, I'm feeling a bit out of control at the moment. Small spaces keep me… contained."

Sirius thinks of the tiny cupboard under a flight of stairs kilometers away, the horrid people that had caused this ruckus laughing outside of it. _Contained._ The word makes his blood boil. Perhaps he should have read those child development books that Narcissa had given Severus all those years ago.

Sirius chooses his next words very carefully. "In my opinion, power like that should be harnessed and used to its fullest extent. Not in front of a bunch of clueless Muggles, granted, but…"

Harry frowns in sudden concentration. Sirius knows the dazed look well enough to know Harry is either consulting Aveline or Draco or both.

"Am I going to go to Azkaban?" Harry asks. His voice is deceptively calm and steady, but Sirius sees his hands are still shaking.

There is something like a clanging, beating, and heated pain inside Sirius's chest. _Darkness and filth and Bellatrix singing down the hall, that same stupid song his mother used to hum, and the madness and the emptiness and it's his fault, all his fault, poor Harry, poor Remus, oh gods Lily and James-_

"No, love," Sirius says softly. "You will never go to Azkaban. _No one_ I care about is ever going to Azkaban, least of all you. Please, don't let that horrid place bother you anymore. It cannot take what you do not give."

Harry blinks rapidly, and _there_ is the saddened, confused child Sirius had been expecting. It's nice to know that he's still in there underneath all that adolescent angst. "Aveline told me, when we were practicing, that I shouldn't hope so hard for my Patronus to be a stag like my dad's. That it was okay to be my own person. Do you think it's alright, for it to be a lion?"

It is Remus that now snorts, approaching slowly from the doorway. "Of course it is. Are you kidding? Can you imagine how James would carry on, Padfoot, if he knew his Patronus would likely become Harry's Patronus's _prey_?"

Shockingly, it is Luna that laughs at that first. Her giggles start high, the sound like bells. It quickly becomes contagious. Soon, the four of them are laughing uproariously.

"It's really filthy under here," Harry gasps through his laughter, rolling out from under the bed.

When the group makes their way downstairs, Kingsley and several Aurors are waiting to inform Sirius of the memory-altering charms performed on the Muggles that witnessed this morning's events.

Sirius tries very hard not to pay attention to Minister Fudge, watching them from a darkened table near the bar.

* * *

Narcissa wakes to a large white dragon made of light swooping above her head.

For a moment, she's not sure where or when she is. She'd had a dream about this same dragon the night before Draco had been born. Any second now, Lucius will come in a little worse for wear after a night with the Dark Lord, and-

The dragon flaps its great wings, just one of them longer than her entire canopied bed, and flies through the wall.

Narcissa sits straight up, coming back to herself immediately. Lucius sleeps soundly beside her; down the hall, she can faintly hear the _pop_ of house elves. She grabs her dressing gown and quickly makes her way to the opposite wing.

"Draco," she breathes, swinging open his door.

A house elf or two scurries out of her way as she approaches. Their tiny wrinkled hands flutter uselessly, wide orb-like eyes staring at the Patronus now curled around her son.

A white-silver Chinese Fireball looks back at her, the spikes around its head flared protectively. It is at least twenty five feet long, and even though it is but a spell, its muscles shift and ripple powerfully. Narcissa tries desperately to recall all that she can about this dragon; after her dream before her son's birth, she had researched it in the Malfoy library.

 _The Chinese Fireball is also called the Liondragon_ , she remembers. This initial thought sends a spike of anxiety and recognition tearing through her abdomen. Harry had recently conjured his own Patronus in a truly reckless Gryffindor fashion; a _lion._ Desperately she tries to remember more; _it's aggressive, it shoots fire from its nostrils when angry, it is the only Chinese dragon to emit flames and is therefore considered an omen of divine retribution, and it-_

Her thoughts almost snuff themselves out entirely, the implications too bizarre to consider. She stares at her sleeping son, the gigantic Patronus fading as his sleep calms. He must have had a nightmare and reacted without thinking in his half-asleep state.

 _The Chinese Fireball will sometimes consent to sharing its territory with up to two other dragons._

* * *

Ginny, Theo, and Blaise all stare at Severus Snape as though he might in fact be half mad.

"Just what are you playing at?" Blaise asks, his voice low and dark in his throat.

Ginny tries not to shiver and fails. Sirius had brought them to this strange, cold manor called Ciaran only an hour ago, and already it feels like years. The white marble of the walls and floors, the gilded silver of the ceilings all seem to absorb and destroy any form of heat. There is Dark magic here.

It disturbed her to see Aveline shifting amongst the shadows, perfectly at ease in this false home.

"I am not playing at all, Mr. Zabini. I said, _list all the Dark spells you know._ "

Ginny cuts her eyes back to Severus. He looms above them, tall and brooding. Books from the Chamber line his shelves. Memories of the place flash through her mind. She tries her best to shut them down, tries her best to focus on something else.

 _Dark spells._

" _Crucio,"_ she says.

Snape is just beginning to nod his approval at her knowledge when bright scarlet light leaps from her fingertips. It shoots from her hand to the floor, burning and sizzling. Ginny gasps and takes several steps back, away from where she can possibly harm anyone.

Tears spring into her eyes. Tom Riddle had invaded her body and mind, and now he was turned her into a Dark witch.

Her professor's eyes widen, but only by a fraction.

Blaise and Theo, meanwhile, have yelped and dodged well out of the way, cowering against a bookshelf on the far side of Severus's study. They look at her as though they've never really seen her before. It is the same terrified look her parents wear. It is the same look she sees in the mirror each morning.

"I'm sorry!" Ginny whimpers. What else is she to say? Tears sting her eyes, blurring her vision, and she feels ashamed of them. "I should have said the Cruciatus Curse, not the actual spell. I didn't mean to! This keeps happening. Why does this keep-?"

She cuts herself off when Snape holds up one calm hand.

"It is quite alright. Mr. Nott, have you thought of a Dark spell? Mr. Zabini?"

Theo is staring at her with black unreadable eyes. He's grown at least three inches since she last saw him. It startles her to realize that they're not quite children anymore.

"The Killing Curse," Theo says calmly.

Blaise looks between the two of them, back and forth, body still poised to flee. Finally, he straightens.

"The Imperious."

Severus isn't quite certain what to make of them listing the three Unforgivables first.

* * *

It seems as though it has been ages since the breakout from Azkaban, and yet the headlines still scream.

 **LESTRANGE AND PETTIGREW STILL ON THE RUN!**

 **ARE ALL THIRTEEN ESCAPED DEATH EATERS IN HIDING TOGETHER? THE TRUTH ON PAGE FOUR!**

 **BLACK STILL REFUSING TO COMMENT ON THE SAFETY OF HIS GODSON IN WAKE OF AZKABAN BREAKOUT!**

It is the latter that terrifies Harry. The fear seeps into his very core.

When he visits Neville, the boy informs him of his parents' torture, whispering quietly in the dark about a war and an Order that Aveline sometimes thinks about.

 _Get ready,_ Aveline's thoughts come quietly. So quiet he almost misses them. _A war, an Order, and people that think they can Eat their own mortality away… they'll all return soon._

* * *

Theo stares at thirteen Death Eaters and tries very hard to appear bored.

In the back of his mind, he hears Severus's voice. _"Remember, you three, there is no real difference in Light magic and Dark magic. The only truth is Gray, but there are those that believe that truth can be dangerous. A person, a society, is easier to control when they're busy denying half or more than half of their own selves. Don't be afraid of yourself. Don't deliberately harm anyone with magic unless they have harmed you._ "

Severus had given him, Ginny, and Blaise all lessons in magic he hadn't even heard discussed at Hogwarts, had given them reading assignments more than one hundred pages long from books the Ministry had deemed Banned or Restricted. Ancient Elemental magic, blood magic, soul magic, magic that used the body as a channel rather than a tool, magic that didn't require wands. Magic without restriction. The Law of Three; the Creed.

 _What you put into the universe shall return to you times three._

 _An' it harm none, do what ye will._

" _In layman's terms, do no harm, but take no shite,"_ Severus had said plainly.

Theo watches his father toast his old comrades, Chiara on his arm, and reveals nothing.

* * *

Aveline, Luna, Ginny, and Hermione carefully peel away from the massive party in full swing on the Burrow's lawn. Mrs. Weasley had enchanted lights floating above the head of her guests; a large tent, courtesy of the Malfoys, had been pitched underneath the tallest trees. The gnomes were grumbling in the garden, dusting themselves off from being thrown previously during the day and eyeing the platters of food on the tables not far away.

They find Sirius and Remus, half tipsy in a shady grove next to the field that leads to the Lovegood home.

Aveline glances at Hermione nervously. Hermione nods imperceptibly. It's odd, Aveline thinks, how the tables have turned. A girl she was once so unsure about has become one of her closest friends. A Muggleborn, at that.

Luna smiles up at the two men serenely. Ginny stands still, giving away nothing.

"We have something to ask of you, but we request the utmost secrecy. Not even Severus can know. At least, not for now," Aveline says, careful to keep her voice quiet underneath the din of the back-to-Hogwarts celebration behind her.

She thinks of her soulmates, of Harry and Draco, and tries not to feel a twinge of guilt. Alas, sometimes a girl had to have her own tricks up her own sleeve.

Sirius grins down at them roguishly. "Sounds like a prank, doesn't it Mooney? Tell me, is a new generation of Marauders upon us? And what a twist; four girls this time!"

Remus smiles gently, his scarred face so much more relaxed with a glass of Firewhiskey in his hand. "Not Marauders, Padfoot; they're the four little Madams."

Hermione rolls her eyes. "We're not little, and this isn't a prank."

Sirius raises an eyebrow.

"You should be able to see, by all the humdingers present, that we're quite serious in our endeavors," Luna nods gamely. Her nearly white hair shines in the moonlight, giving her an otherworldly appearance. Not for the first time, Aveline wonders if perhaps faye blood mixed with an ancient Malfoy ancestor to create the Lovegood line.

"And what are your endeavors, Madams?" Remus appears as though he's trying not to snicker. Sirius is still staring at them with something like nostalgia and fascination.

"We want to become Animagi," Aveline announces.

Stunned silence falls over the two men. The four girls wait anxiously for the decision; tension fills the air. They could learn on their own of course, especially with the power held in each of them, the combined mental efforts of Hermione and Aveline. It would go so much faster though, if they were to have guidance.

Finally Remus sighs. "Well, I suppose it's a very good thing, then, that I'll be at Hogwarts as Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. It will give Sirius an excuse to visit very often."

The four newly formed Madams, the four young women of the Circle, all breathe a collective sigh of relief.

Next week they're returning to Hogwarts, and not much will be the same.


	18. Chapter 18

Sirius can remember a time when he and Arthur were young and carefree. Granted, in Sirius's mind, Arthur has always had a gaggle of ankle-biting children around, and a wife that's a bit too pushy for Sirius's tastes. These few shortcomings didn't mean that the man hadn't been an exceptional spy for the Order in his prime; turns out no one suspects a jolly, bumbling family man to be adept at espionage.

Sirius had been working with James to recreate Muggle weapons using magic when… But no matter. Rather than think about the death of his best friend, Sirius prefers to dwell on the many laughs they had, frightening Lily with the mild explosions in the backyard.

All that sexy Order soldier business is over now, though Sirius suspects it will soon become necessary again. This time around he will be significantly grumpier; especially because for all Sirius, Arthur, and Remus try to come up with a suave way to explain Bellatrix and Peter to Harry, they still flounder when they pull the boy aside at the Leaky. It's as good a meeting place as any for Apparating to the platform. The Weasley children, still sunburnt from their impromptu trip to Egypt to visit Bill, provide a nice din of noise as a cover.

"Listen to me, Harry. My being a professor at Hogwarts won't be the only change at school this year," Remus starts. Sirius feels a rush of affection for his old friend. Leave it to Moony to take charge from the start.

Harry's eyebrows furrow. He'd hit a growth spurt this year; thanks to the clandestine visits to Saint Mungo's and Madam Pomfrey's careful check-ups, the family had managed to heal most of the lingering side effects of malnutrition and neglect. Harry is still on the thin side, and will never be as robust as James, but Sirius wonders if perhaps that has to do more with Lily's litheness. Moments like these take Sirius's breath away; he wonders how they got here, pulling aside a thirteen year old boy and warning him about mass murderers and torturers out for his head, rather than the pitfalls of dating.

"Alright… what else then?" Harry's eyes flicker to Draco and then Aveline. The two sit quietly on the staircase of the Leaky, eyes focused very hard on what appears to be the Weasleys, polite smiles on their faces. Sirius knows that they're in fact mentally listening in.

"Harry, our entire world is on high alert. Not one, not two, but _thirteen_ of You-Know-Who's followers broke out of Azkaban. In the first war, Death Eaters targeted all sorts of high-population areas, killing as many as possible. But now, they have a high- _profile_ target," Arthur bravely picks up where Remus left off.

Sirius resists the urge to turn to the wall behind his back, where there's a poster plastered of his dear cousin Bella. Instead he forces himself to watch the fear flicker in his godson's eyes. He watches even as the fear turns to anger, then to defensiveness, and then to something like resolve.

"They're coming after _me_. _That's_ why Fudge was scoping out the Leaky, the day of my Patronus." Harry states.

Sirius nods. His instinct is to reach out and ruffle Harry's hair as he did when the boy was small. He barely refrains. Harry ducks out of reach now, a bit embarrassed of the affection. "We think they'll be able to find you, Harry, because they'll know you're in school. So now Dementors have been posted to stand guard until the thirteen are caught."

Harry nods distractedly, eyes back on Aveline and Draco. They're not even pretending to listen to the Weasley racket anymore. Their eyes linger on Harry, black and silver. "Thanks for telling us."

Next to him, he feels Remus stiffen. They're still not used to speaking to three people, yet looking at only one.

* * *

Hermione leans over the wicker basket, whispering quietly to her new cat. "Don't worry, Crookshanks, I'll get you out of there as soon as the train starts moving."

She's already got her robes on, which is causing most of the other students in the next compartment to snicker at her through the open doorway, but no one in the Circle's compartment seems to mind much. Her friends greet her with easy waves and smiles. She returns them with an ease she doesn't feel.

Rather than join in a raucous game of Exploding Snap already forming, Hermione settles into the quiet corner next to Ginny and Remus Lupin. Already, her brain is whirring with a to-do list a mile long; keep Harry and Ron in line at dinner, retrieve her Time Turner from Professor McGonagall once at Hogwarts, practice using the Time Turner with Dumbledore, make sure Crookshanks gets settled in, lay out her new robes for tomorrow…

The Fountain images push into her head again. She tries not to wince as a spark of magic goes whizzing through the train corridor.

Hermione takes a deep breath and decides to practice building her walls of mental defense the way Professor Snape has been teaching her; rather than using her usual images of brick and mortar, iron and steel, she uses the Fountain memories instead. After being taken by the Creepers and completing a series of tasks rather similar to those she, Harry, and Ron had faced in their first year at Hogwarts, something truly remarkable had happened.

Even now, she hopes that Divination class will be able to rationally explain the vivid visions.

 _Hermione reaches the top of the hill, panting and sweating. There's a cut down her arm and twigs in her hair, but she doesn't mind. The Fountain. It's there now, finally in front of her, and rather plainer than she expected._

 _The runes seem simple enough; she can pick out many of them on the basis of her introductory textbook alone. Sweet clear water flows from the top and trickles down the stony plateau surfaces._

 _Hermione reaches out her hand, feels the first wet splash-_

 _A vision, ripping through her mind, and words imprinted in the background of each one;_

 _ **See now in all fairness the fortune you seek**_ _: Hermione is standing in Professor Dumbledore's office, a dirty white bandage wrapped around her left hand. She uses it to brush against the time turner, concealed inside her shirt against her stomach. The metal is cold, making her innards ache worse than the lie can. "No, Professor. The Time Turner was destroyed in the attack."_

 _ **Be not afraid of that which makes you weak:**_ _Next she's inside Professor McGonagall's office; a fire is roaring behind her desk and she's smiling proudly. In front of her lies several pieces of parchment with empty lines waiting to be filled with her signature; an application for an internship in the Department of Mysteries._

 _ **Your greatest loss will make way for your greatest gain:**_ _Tears are streaming down Hermione's cheeks, though she doesn't know why. She is somewhere white and sanitary. A hospital? People swirl all around her. She's so dizzy; what has happened? Her knees buckle and she falls into the arms of a Weasley twin. Is this Fred or George? "It's going to be alright, love. I've got you," he whispers, whoever he is. There are tinier flashes next; Sirius Black grinning at her in the dark, a tent in the frosty woods, a splash of blood and Aveline._

 _The next words are too faded for her to make out in the background of all the flashes; shouts, screams, sobs, laughter, explosions, a baby crying, Weasleys dancing, a large manor in the middle of a clearing, the Ministry's lobby, the flash of a camera, and finally… finally… two small children with wild curly hair shifting into animals, the surroundings too blurry to make out their features._

"Hermione? Hermione, wake up. Something's going on."

It's not Harry's voice, or Aveline's, or even Neville's that wakes her. She hadn't even realized she'd fallen asleep to the vivid memories, playing them on repeat over and over in her dream. Professor Lupin is shaking her arm gently, hazel eyes wide and concerned. The light in the train is dimmer than she remembers; the air is freezing, there's frost on the windows that splinters into worrisome patterns.

Her Circle of friends are coiled together on the seats next to and opposite her; Luna and Theo are pressed together, his arm over her shoulders as she shivers. Neville is on her other side, looking as though he would much rather be hiding under someone's arm. He clutches his new potted plant with white knuckles. Blaise is standing at the door of the compartment, peering around it with Harry. Draco and Aveline are next to her; Draco stares hard at the back of Harry's head, silver eyes molten, as though offended the train dared to stop with him inside. Aveline sits perfectly still, and has her eyes trained on Ginny's pale face. Her hand is wrapped in Ron's larger one.

"I think the two of you should sit down," Remus murmurs to the boys. They reluctantly slink backwards, allowing the compartment door to slide open.

That's when Hermione sees it.

There's something like fog and a chill that comes first, a white mist in the air. After comes the ragged edges of a black cloak, and then the finger bones.

"Do you honestly think the Death Eaters are here amongst the third years? Out! _Get out!_ " Remus shouts.

The rest of the Dementor comes into view. It is large, looming, black. It smells like death and rot. Hermione is suddenly very sure she will never be happy again.

" _Expecto Patronum_ ," Harry snarls, his wand aimed around Remus. A large silver lion leaps with the spell, lunging onto the Dementor, knocking it back. Remus has turned, half exasperated and half proud, when there is a dull thud as Ginny falls to the floor of the compartment in a dead faint. Ron, who had been holding her hand tightly still, tumbles down after her.

The words of the fountain echo in Hermione's ears as Remus sighs and pulls out some chocolate.

* * *

"We could really use a Circle member in Hufflepuff," Draco says to Aveline at the Welcoming Feast, directly after the Sorting. "I just realized it's the only House not represented in the Circle."

Aveline blinks into her pudding, considering this. It's a fair enough point, actually, and she's learning that one can never have too much tolerance. "I'll bring it up at the first meeting."

"I think we should establish a base of reconnaissance in Hogsmeade," Blaise adds in, twitching his fork full of beans for emphasis. "We'll learn all sorts of stuff by eavesdropping on the poor, unsuspecting townsfolk."

"Find us a decent base then, Zabini, when you're finished learning large new words like _reconnaissance,_ " Aveline agrees, not unkindly.

Blaise snorts.

"I'm so full I think I may die," Aveline's roommate Sophie moans into her spoon. Aveline glances down at her plate; she's barely touched it.

"Full of what?" Tracey snorts. "Hot air?"

Aveline decides it's very good to be back.

* * *

"I heard you had a difficult time on the train, dear," Professor McGonagall says softly.

Ginny looks up at her through her red bangs. Her mother had cut them this way a few weeks ago. Ginny still can't decide if she likes them or not. "I'm alright, Professor."

"Still, I've asked Hermione to wait outside for you. I'd hate for you to get woozy on the way back to the Common Room."

Ginny isn't sure what she's supposed to say to that, exactly, so she just nods rather uncomfortably.

"Miss Weasley, I'd like to offer you some extra tutoring lessons this term."

Ginny's blood freezes in her veins. Extra tutoring? Had she failed her first year?! Had Tom already ruined the rest of her life by setting her back permanently in her education?

McGonagall seems to see the panic on her face. "Please don't worry dear. Severus mentioned something about it over the summer. Given last year's… circumstances, and your negative reaction to our new campus guests, I was hoping to make you feel a little more, shall we say, _well-armed_?"

Ginny relaxes. She even smiles. "I can't thank you enough."

* * *

Hermione tosses and turns in bed. There is only thirty minutes until curfew; she really won't have time to make it to the Hospital Wing and back before then, unless….

Hermione draws the curtains in her bed, then Summons the time turner from her bag. Dumbledore had shown her earlier in the evening, after depositing poor Ginny safely into her dorm, how to use it correctly.

Just two little spins…

The world blurs around her, figures moving in reverse. To be honest it makes her stomach a bit ill, but Hermione closes her eyes and waits for it to be over. It doesn't take long.

When it is, the last rays of the sun are just setting, when it had been totally dark moments before. Hermione climbs from the four-poster and sets off for the Hospital Wing.

"Miss Granger!" Madam Pomfrey exclaims. "Back so soon? Miss Weasley didn't faint again on her way down to the feast, did she?"

"Not at all," Hermione smiles. "I assume you've been made aware of my time turner?"

Madam Pomfrey raises her eyebrows sternly. Her sternness reminds Hermione of the neat hospital beds all around them. "Abusing the power already?"

"No, Madam," Hermione says, blushing and wondering if this were such a good idea after all. "It's just, the incident with Ginny earlier really got me thinking, and I've been considering my career options since choosing all of these electives. Do you think you could spare some time in the evenings to teach me about Healing?"

* * *

"Congratulations once again, Hagrid," Lupin smiles, feeling a bit as though his arm is about to be torn out of socket as the half-giant shakes his hand vigorously, still crying tears of pride and joy.

"Thank 'ye, Lupin. Come down ta th' hut any time for tea," Hagrid smiles.

"Of course, of course," Lupin nods, and then hurries on his way.

His face fades from a tired smile into a frown. He must write Sirius immediately.

The Marauder's Map is gone from Filch's office. There's no telling when it was taken or by whom.

And now Peter is on the loose with thirteen of the Darkest witches and wizards of their time.


	19. Chapter 19

"Oh, my dear… I'm so sorry. You have _the Grim._ "

Aveline raises an eyebrow, entirely unimpressed.

The rest of the class gasps. Hermione appears from thin air in the seat next to her. Having chosen a seat in the back of the class, it's no surprise that no one else notice's Hermione's strange entrance.

Aveline turns her raised eyebrow to Hermione.

The girl just smiles sheepishly, tucking the end of a gold chain down the front of her robes. She's cut her hair before classes this year, the curled ends brushing against the tops of her shoulders. Aveline thinks of Sophie's new pixie cut and decides short hair must be in this year. Her own hits the middle of her back.

Aveline retrieves a scrap of parchment, scrawling lazily _Early Apparition lessons?_ while Trelawney continues to drone on about Harry's imminent death through the haze of incense.

Hermione blushes and bites her lip, sure signs she's about to either lie or withhold the truth. Aveline barely refrains from groaning in annoyance. _Can't tell anyone. Sorry. Dumbledore's orders._

Alright, now Aveline is super annoyed. "Can't tell anyone because of _Dumbledore_?! Since when are any of us allegiant to Dumbledore?" she hisses under her breath.

Hermione only shrugs and begins unpacking her parchment and quills.

Aveline makes a mental note to watch her more carefully.

* * *

"Let me assure you, Mr. Potter, that should you die, you need not turn in your first assignment."

Hermione stares at McGonagall, the woman so full of impatience and exasperation she's practically oozing it. Hermione lets out a nervous little giggle along with the rest of the class. She does not think of the Fountain, or what it showed her, or how much she believes in it.

* * *

Theo paces in front of the gargoyle, causing it to roll its stone eyes. He thinks back to Luna's advice; _if you're struggling, remember the powerful wizard we literally live with._

At first he'd thought she'd been talking about Snape.

Or Flitwick. Contrary to the stereotype of his size, the man was fierce in a duel.

But Dumbledore? His whole life, he'd been taught that Dumbledore was a fool, a fake, a misguided old man with too much power he hadn't really earned.

Theo thinks of his friends and their worried glances throughout the first week of school; his distractions are truly paramount this year anyway, what with Terry being assigned to live with him, the annoying git, but still… he cannot afford to appear any different.

Theo think of Blaise, and then of Ginny? What would they do?

No, no. Blaise is kind of involved. And Ginny… Ginny may very well turn out to be Dark herself someday, loathe as he is to admit it. The thought sends pangs through his chest.

Theo thinks of Aveline.

Instead of giving the password to the annoyed gargoyle, he turns and walks away.

* * *

Draco stares at the great beast of Hagrid's, the sleek blue feathers, the sharp beak, the beady intelligent eyes.

Draco slips quietly into Harry's mind, fascinated by the connection he and the animal share. When Harry bows in thanks for the ride, Draco tries very hard not to move.

He fails. His legs move him forward almost without his permission, toward the beast, trying to close the distance between them. What sort of magical contract is this? It feels old.

Buckbeak, sensing a third party he's not had a chance to deem worthy, panics. The connection snaps Draco back into his own mind at the same time Buckbeak screeches and kicks out with his powerful hooves.

Draco feels the snap of his arm and hears Aveline's anguished cry, as well as Harry's. The stares of the confused class are echoed threefold in the minds of his soul mates.

 _I really hope my father doesn't hear of this,_ he tells them.

* * *

"Finally!" Ron enthuses. "It's our first Defense class!"

"I'm sure that no matter what happens, Lupin will be far better than Lockhart ever was," Hermione shrugs, skimming the pages in her Defense textbook as a last-minute refresher.

"Weren't you utterly infatuated with Lockhart last year?" George asks pointedly, munching on a muffin.

"I wasn't!" Hermione protests, turning bright red. Her eyes flicker from George to Fred and then back down to her book.

"We all make mistakes, Hermione," Harry snickers, earning him a pinch on the leg underneath the table.

"Ugh. Let's just get to class, please. It wouldn't do to be late on our first day," Hermione grouses.

"If we get there now, we'll be thirty minutes early," Blaise snickers good-naturedly, appearing at the end of the Gryffindor table.

Still, the third year Gryffindors and Slytherins slowly begin filing out into the hall. Professor Lupin meets them at the door of the usual classroom, gathering them together in a small clump. Hermione shifts uncertainly toward Ron, and he spares her a comforting smile; he knows how she hates unexpected lessons.

"Alright everyone, as it turns out our usual lecture hall won't be large enough to cover today's practical applications," Lupin begins once he's double-checked the row. "If you'll be so kind as to follow me."

The students traipse along behind him, whispering under their breaths about what the lesson might be. Aveline brings up the rear, eyes narrowed suspiciously. Lupin has always been a figure on the fringe of her social circles, but now he's a professor, shifting his role and importance in her life dramatically. She had thought that her school lessons with him would be similar to her extra tutoring outside of Hogwarts; however, she senses something inside him that is different, especially here. There is something almost mischievous in the way he moves, almost lazy. It throws her off.

 _Damned Gryffindors_ , she thinks without bothering to check her blocks.

"Hey!" Harry protests aloud.

Draco's gray eyes turn from amused- he'd been sniggering about Goyle's already confused countenance with Blaise- to reprimanding in an instant. They've been having far too many slips lately; they're starting to receive odd looks from their classmates.

Fortunately, at that very moment Peeves drops a blackboard eraser on Harry's head.

"Peeves, could you please leave the third years alone? We have a very big morning scheduled," Lupin asks politely.

"Ickle Potter's hair be blacksies, without a waxing… of eraser dust! _Hahahahaha_ ," Peeves cackles nonsensically. He soars backward, through a wall sconce, and then back around the class, blowing raspberries all the while.

Lupin sighs and removes his wand from its holster. "Alright then, you leave me with no choice. _Wadiwassi!_ "

Peeves is yanked backward, as though by a giant hook. He wails as he is yanked away by Lupin's magic, disappearing around a corner. After a moment, there's a loud crash as he's tossed right into a suit of armor.

A chorus of giggles sound; Lupin is looked at by all with much more respect than a few moments ago.

Sirius is grinning next to Professor Dumbledore, both of them standing as though on guard outside of a much larger, empty classroom. Harry starts, happy to see his godfather and at once concerned to see him there.

"Hello students," Dumbledore smiles, eyes twinkling like mad. "If you don't mind, Professor Lupin and I would like to welcome a guest to observe classes today. You see, Lord Black is considering a run for the Hogwarts Board of Governors in the spring term, and he would like to become familiar with the curriculum. This particular class of Professor Lupin's today promises to be quite lively."

The students file into the nearly empty classroom behind Lupin, Sirius, and Dumbeldore. There is only a large, plain wardrobe that Lupin approaches with shoulders that are slightly more slumped. "Alright everyone. Who knows what a boggart is?"

Of course, Hermione's hand shoots up. "A boggart is a creature that has no known form. It can transform itself into any person's greatest fear."

Lupin smiles, seeming not at all irritated by Hermione's answer the way Severus can be. Aveline tries not to smile; she knows it is only because Severus would like to find a question that could stump her. "Very good. Yes, students, that is what is in this wardrobe. There is only one incantation that can be known to combat a boggart; it is _Riddikulus!_

A small pulse of magic emits from the end of Lupin's wand. Everyone obligingly takes out their wand and repeats after him several times.

 _This class is 'ridiculous'_ , Draco snarls uncomfortably in Aveline and Harry's heads. _This is the first day and we're expected to face our worst fears?!_

 _I love it_ , Harry enthuses.

Aveline thinks of her future, and stays silent.

"Now, who will be the first to try this?" Lupin smiles jovially. "Ah yes, Mr. Longbottom!"

Neville goes very white and his fingers clench into fists, but after a reassuring nod from Harry and Ron, he steps forward. Lupin grins.

Slowly, with a flick of his wrist, the wardrobe door swings open…

And out steps Augusta Longbottom.

" _Neville, you're nothing but a disappointment! An utter Squib! I should have pawned you off on your uncle-_ "

" _Riddikulus!_ " Neville shouts. In an instant, the boggarts form begins to shift, random shapes and limbs swirling through the air until-

The boggart settles as Severus Snape dressed in Augusta Longbottom's clothes.

Peals of laughter echo through the room. After that, everyone clamors to be next in line. Neville beams at his success, going to the back. Sophie and Tracey, Aveline's roommates, find themselves near the front. She watches their fears with interest, but they seem to be quite common; Tracey's is a fear of heights (shocking because she's such a Quidditch fan), and Sophie's is an ugly reflection in a mirror.

Ron Weasley goes next. A knot forms in Aveline's throat that is echoed by a stomach-drop sensation in Harry and anger from Draco when they see that Ron's worst fear is a pile of rocks that he can't seem to move.

There's a gaggle of clowns, spiders, disappointed parents, one particularly hysterical goose incident, and an interesting gargoyle one when Harry steps up to the boggart. Aveline senses Sirius and Lupin take a step forward. Dumbledore's shoulders tense.

What are they expecting him to see?

The boggart shimmers, whirling and transforming, and then… it splits in two. In front of Harry stands an exact copy of Draco and Aveline. Shock shivers through the link; Harry is afraid of his own soulmates?!

" _We don't want you to be our friend anymore,_ " the boggart-Aveline hisses, waving her fingers in a good-bye.

" _You're an intruder. You don't belong with us,"_ Draco-boggart snarls.

Pain rips through Harry's chest. Draco gasps next to Aveline, grabbing for her hand to steady himself. Harry's love for them both goes far deeper than they had assumed. His insecurity over not knowing them as long as they have known each other had never been apparent. It fills them both with shame, to think of how long he may have been carrying this without them noticing.

In Harry's mind, images flash almost too quickly for them to catch; Draco and Aveline eating meals together across the Great Hall, heads bent over books, arriving at holiday functions to the Burrow and Manor Sirius' apartment together. Then, the flickers of faint imaginings that haven't happened yet; Draco and Aveline holding hands in the corridors in front of Harry, he trailing behind, Draco's arms around her in Hogsmeade while it snows, Aveline staring up at Draco and laughing, pressing a kiss to his cheek-

" _Riddikulus!"_ Harry shouts. The spell bursts out of him so strongly it slams the boggart back into its wardrobe. The wardrobe falls with a crash onto its back. The class is silent as Harry stalks to the back of the line without making eye contact with anyone, but none are more shell-shocked than Draco and Aveline.

After a stunned Lupin rights the wardrobe, Hermione quietly steps forward. The boggart edges from the wardrobe more slowly this time, as though dreading the possibility of facing Harry again. It quickly morphs, though, when it realizes it has a new foe.

Once again, it transforms into a double of someone already in the room- Hermione herself. Everyone stares in puzzlement as golden glittering sparks begins to fly up and away from the boggart-Hermione.

"No," Hermione whispers.

The boggart-Hermione wails. " _Not my magic, no, please don't take my magic_ -"

The class stares in abject horror as Hermione raises her wand and whispers in misery " _Riddikulus_!"

Without a word, Sirius Black gently takes Hermione by the shoulder and guides her from the room, even as the boggart is forced into the image of a mime. Everyone, even the Slytherins, pretend not to notice the tears on her face.

The class is decidedly more somber after that, and only becomes more so when Draco's version of the boggart is the Dark mark hovering above Malfoy Manor. With the cast of a spell, it turns into a peacock trying in vain to hop over the roof of the estate.

Aveline steps forward. She pretends not to notice her heart pounding. The boggart warps again as she tries not to flinch.

When it settles, it is a pair of crazy eyes behind bars, and the manic shriek of _"WHO IS SHE?! IS THAT THE GIRL?!_ "

Aveline takes a deep breath and raises her wand against Bellatrix Lestrange.


	20. Chapter 20

After the infamous boggart class, life settles into more of a routine. Classes with Lupin are always interesting, especially with him collaborating with Hagrid's Care of Magical Creatures class for his first unit on combatting Dark creatures. Circle meetings become far more about studying, helping Ginny and Luna through the already-completed second year material, and gossiping than about anything else.

Aveline watches Theo though, especially noting the dark circles under his eyes. When asked, he mutters something about Terry Boot's snores. When Aveline's eyes narrow, Luna's does the same.

The hardest class for both Hermione and Aveline becomes Divination, not because they don't understand the material but because they both despise Trelawney.

"The card you have pulled is the Empress, my dear. That's a wonderful omen," Trelawney nods seriously in Parvati's general direction.

She and Lavender Brown squeal in a most undignified fashion. Hermione sighs.

"Oh honestly, it's not as though these cards aren't entirely subjective to the perspectives of the human psyche. You see what you want to see," Aveline hisses.

Hermione nods, keeping her eyes on Trelawney through the fog of incense.

"Any true Seer would be embarrassed to read Tarot. Muggles read these cards all the time, themselves! It's not magic, it's-"

"Do you believe in Sight?" Hermione asks under her breath, cutting off Aveline's rant.

Aveline bites her lip, considering the question.

"I believe in choices," she says finally.

Hermione thinks of fortune and two small children somewhere in the future. Finally, she says, "I really hate this class."

Aveline can only sigh in agreement. She would ask for a withdrawal from Dumbledore, but the less attention drawn to her, the better.

* * *

Harry, Hermione, and Ron trot along the familiar path to Hagrid's rather easily. Harry had been worried that perhaps Luna would stumble, but she seems to be floating gracefully as usual, never minding the rocks under her feet.

"Hagrid's a bit of a nutter," Ron is saying amicably. "We love him, of course, but he's right crazy about all manner of strange and dangerous creatures. So we thought the two of you would get along perfectly."

"It's unfortunate you couldn't get permission to take Care of Magical Creatures a year early," Hermione says, feeling rather guilty about the time turner beating a steady rhythm as it bounces beneath her shirt. Somewhere in the castle, another version of her is taking Arithmancy right now.

"Oh, I wouldn't want to rush myself. Besides, Theo is teaching me a few things in what little spare time he has these days," Luna shrugs.

Something about that statement sits oddly in Harry's mind. He can sense Aveline listening in from the greenhouses, turning it over and examining it rather than the plant Professor Sprout has placed in front of her. Draco is too busy swearing over the pus of the plant to pay either of them much mental attention.

Harry smiles a little to himself.

"Hello you three!" Hagrid calls out once they get close enough. He waves his large hand, knocking some shingles off his roof accidentally. "It's great ter see ye!"

"We brought someone else along, thought you'd like to meet," Ron calls back.

Hagrid squints, as though the glare of the sun on Luna's white hair blinds him, but then he grins. "Of course, of course."

They file into the hut, grinning at one another when they notice the tea brewing and then instantly grimacing to notice the rock cakes. Luna smiles serenely and puts three on her own chipped plate.

"This is Luna, Luna Lovegood," Harry says.

Hermione quickly interjects, "She's a second year Ravenclaw. She tried to get permission to take Care of Magical Creatures early, but couldn't quite."

Hagrid's eyes widen slightly. "Really? You like creatures, then, Lu?"

"It's _Luna_ ," Ron says around a mouthful of pumpkin pastry. Hagrid must have put it out just for him, because both Harry and Hermione dislike to have sweets in the midday (and by that, it is understood that Hermione becomes upset about the possibility of cavities and Harry hasn't the heart to disappoint her).

"Oh, yes," Luna nods eagerly. "My favorite right now are Moon Frogs."

Hagrid's eyes widen comically. Just then, Buckbeak bleats from his post in the pumpkin patch. They watch as Hagrid's face falls.

"What's wrong?" Harry asks, uneasiness seeping into his stomach.

"Nothing to worry about," Hagrid says quickly. He stands up hastily, turning his face toward the teapot that's still steaming and full.

"Hagrid," Hermione says sternly.

"It's just… there's been a fuss on the Board. The Board of Governors, you know. And Sirius can't do much, because he won't be an official member until next school year."

"A fuss about what?" Harry asks, thinking instantly of Lucius. He could help, surely. This gets Draco's attention, finally.

"The Goyle boy told his father about what happened to Malfoy, when Buckbeak kicked him," Hagrid shrugs mournfully.

"It was just a hairline fracture! Madame Pomfrey fixed him up within minutes," Hermione protests. She knows, because that evening when she reported to the Hospital Wing for her medi-witch training, Pomfrey had taught her the spell.

"Yes, well, apparently Buckbeak somehow made _Goyle_ feel threatened, and now there's to be an inquiry. Don't worry about it, I'm sure it'll be set right."

 _I'll tell Father immediately, he'll want a heads-up,_ Draco thinks.

Harry sends back a feeling of agreement.

 _This is beyond stupid, even for Goyle,_ Aveline sighs mentally.

"Mister Hagrid," Luna says slowly, "perhaps if Buckbeak became a sort of mascot for something, it would help his reputation."

Hagrid frowns. "What do you mean, Lu?"

"Well, I would like to start a Care of Magical Creatures Club. I've been thinking about it quite a lot, and if I started working on it now, it could be ready for next year, when I'm allowed to take the class."

Hagrid's eyes light up brighter than the Great Hall, and Harry, Ron, and Hermione all grin. They _knew_ bringing Luna had been a good idea.

* * *

In mid-October, Oliver Wood decides he's waited long enough to call for the first practice. Harry sighs, debating on snuggling deeper into his warm four poster bed, but ultimately gets up and retrieves his broom from underneath it, shoving his arms into a ratty old t-shirt.

The pitch is covered in a fine layer of fog that he knows will block the ground from view once he's in the air. Fred and George snicker at the look of disgust and disappointment on his face; the Snitch _loves_ to hide in fog. Oliver takes it relatively easy on them for a first practice, which shocks Harry but he won't complain. He feels freer than he has in a while, up in the air with his teammates. The familiarity of Alicia's speed, Angelina's shouts, and Katie's laughter at the twins' antics wards off the irritation he feels when the Snitch inevitably disappears into the white haze below.

The relaxed nature of the first practice was apparently only a start-of-season gift, however. Over the next week, Wood practices them hard. George has a black eye from a rogue Bludger and Alicia's socks seem permanently covered in grass stains from landing so hard by the end of it. The Saturday before Halloween and the Hogsmeade weekend, the teams trudges up from the pitch to lunch freshly showered but entirely sore.

"How was it?" Hermione asks cheerfully as Harry plops down at the Gryffindor table.

"Ugggghhhhh," Harry explains eloquently, and drops his forehead to the table.

"Sounds great," Ron nods.

Harry raises his head just in time to see the rest of the team slide in around them. Fred sits down next to Hermione. He watches as she freezes, staring at Fred out of the corner of her eye.

"I have to go," she gasps, jumping up and practically running from the Hall.

Fred stares after her, blue eyes concerned. "She had half a sandwich left."

* * *

The next Saturday happens to be Halloween. Wood gives them the day off entirely, and Harry revels in sleeping in.

Below in the dungeons, his soul mates are busy getting ready for their first Hogsmeade visit. Aveline frowns at her reflection, which appears rather bored with the outfit Sophie has presented her.

"I'm not sure I want to wear robes," Aveline says slowly. The green is brilliant, but then, almost all of her robes have some sort of green accent. It can become tired, after a while.

Sophie sniffs. "What else would you wear?"

"I'm wearing sweatpants," Tracey grins. She'd joined the Slytherin Quidditch team this year. Aveline hadn't been sure she could become sportier, but somehow her wardrobe had achieved it lately.

Sophie stares at her, her gaze hard. "Those Muggle clothes are disgusting."

Tracey goes very pale, dropping her eyes. Aveline bristles. If anyone is going to be making veiled threats around here, it's her. "Leave her alone, Sophie. You know she'll probably leave Hogsmeade early to practice, anyway."

Sophie narrows her eyes at Aveline, but seems to understand the power dynamics of the dorm because she smiles after a moment with a quiet, "Of course."

Aveline watches her turn her back, gliding over to her own trunk and pulling out a robe laden with black rhinestones. After considering her own reflection for another moment, Aveline pulls on Muggle jeans and a black cashmere sweater from Narcissa.

She pretends not to notice Sophie's wrinkled nose on the way up to breakfast, choosing instead to focus on Draco's complaining about her taking too long to get ready.

* * *

Sirius sits at a high-top table in the Three Broomsticks, ignoring Rosmerta's insisting that he pay up his tab in favor of jiggling his leg nervously and staring out the small windows to watch for the kids.

Well, not kids anymore. The teenagers? The young adults? The underage youth? Being a guardian is difficult enough, he thinks, without all the added labeling.

"They're fine. They'll be here any moment. You know Severus and Minerva are walking over with them. Heads of Houses always go along on Hogsmeade weekends," Remus murmurs soothingly. Sirius tries not to notice Remus staring at his younger cousin across the table and fails. _Ha!_ Remus and Nymphadora. Wouldn't that be a laugh? They're the two most awkward people he knows.

"Anything at all could happen on that walk. It's too far. Some of it should be covered, I think, by a pavilion of sorts," Sirius grumbles.

Remus raises an eyebrow, as though to say _seriously, Sirius?_ It's a look almost as old as their friendship.

"That'd just be one more awning for the upper years to snog underneath," Nymphadora snickers. Distracted as he is by his nervousness, Sirius can't help but smirk at the flush that arises on Remus's face.

Before good old Moony can think of any witty return, the door bursts open in a flood of excited third years all talking about Butterbeer. Sirius can see the straggling upper years behind them all, Hogsmeade being old hat to them. He breathes out a sigh of relief to see Draco, Aveline, and Harry walking arm-in-arm alongside Theo, Luna, and Ginny. Hermione and Ron are moving in a horde with the Weasley twins and two pretty girls Sirius doesn't recognize. Blaise is chasing after a girl in glittering black robes and one in Muggle sweatpants, straight to the sweet shop. Neville is tripping over the long end of his robes, sized up to prevent his growth spurts from catching up to them. Sirius grins; of course the boy had worn his school robes just in case.

Satisfied that Harry, Draco, and Aveline's friends had made it right along with them, Sirius stands and tries not to hope too hard for a hug. Today is the twelfth anniversary of James and Lily's death. Having the entire Order here in Hogsmeade to protect Harry from thirteen escaped Death Eaters feels so surreal after everything everyone had already sacrificed.

"Harry," Remus calls, waving jovially. Something tugs in Sirius's chest when their boy grins, happy and windswept and hopefully entirely safe.

Draco and Aveline follow Harry easily to the table. Harry launches himself against Sirius's chest, wrapping his arms around him tightly. Sirius grins into his messy hair, and ruffles it just to embarrass him. Harry doesn't even duck out of the way, just whispers, "Happy Halloween."

Draco and Aveline have a slightly pained look on their faces when the hug breaks, but they smile at Remus and Sirius nevertheless. The pub has become quite noisy with the influx of students; Sirius figures it must be quite uncomfortable for subdued introverted Slytherins. "Alright there, kids?"

"Fine, thanks," Draco and Aveline say at the same time. Nymphadora blinks in surprise, but grins easily, holding out her hand for introductions.

"Hi, I'm Tonks. I'm Sirius's cousin."

Aveline's eyebrows lift in surprise, while Draco tilts his head curiously, silver eyes narrowing. "How so?"

"My mum's his first cousin, Andromeda."

Sirius watches in amusement as their faces freeze and Harry rolls his eyes at the shock that must be siphoning through their bond.

Everyone recovers smoothly enough, however, and out into the chill October wind they go once more to explore Hogsmeade.

* * *

Aveline stares at the woman that is the result of a blood-traitor, and tries very hard not to be impressed by her innate magical ability to Metamorph.

Like most third years, they'd ended up in the sweet shop, and Draco was distracting her with very intense internal debate about whether to buy Licorice Lemmings or Chocolate Frogs. It wasn't enough to distract her from noticing the intimidating and wary looking guards posted in nearly every store, however, watching over the Hogwarts students with concern.

"The escaped Death Eaters," Blaise had whispered on the sidewalk, and she had nodded seriously. Their haunted, sallow faces screamed from nearly every available surface for _Wanted_ posters.

Luna glides up to Aveline, confetti in her hair from her trip with Ginny to Madam Puddifoot's for tea. "Aveline, have you seen Theo?"

"No, why?" Aveline asks, emotionally nudging Draco with impatience. _Just choose already!_

"Because I wanted to ask him what the secret message said," Luna explains.

Aveline turns to her sharply. _"What?!"_

"Oh, yes. There's a tree, next to the Shrieking Shack property. Just barely beyond the fence, actually. Theo is quite clever, so he's carved a hole in it that he Charms bark back over. Pulled a message right out of it. I prefer owls myself, as that would become tedious after a while-"

"Love letters," Aveline blurts, panic making her heart beat too quickly. "They're love letters. That's why he's always sneaking off, see. Why he has no time. He's got a girl somewhere, probably. Don't say anything, Luna, alright? It'll embarrass him."

Luna's eyes widen, her gaze going distant as it is sometimes wont to do. "Right, of course. I won't say anything at all."

 _The Death Eaters_ , Blaise had whispered. Aveline had never once questioned why Theo wasn't with him, his best friend.

She slams her mental blocks down and escapes the crowded shop. She's just decided to go find Hermione in the bookstore when Sirius grabs her arm.

"Aveline, love, would you summon Draco and Harry? There's something I'd like to show all of you."

* * *

The tug of Side-Along Apparition makes her head spin and her stomach swirl with nausea. Aveline keeps her eyes closed, focusing on the comforting vibes Draco is sending her way. He knows she hates to travel like this.

Harry, however, loves it, and draws out the adrenaline as long as possible by barely clinging to Sirius's shirtsleeve.

 _You're going to get Splinched, you moron!_

 _Will not._

They land with a dull thud, but Aveline takes a moment to open her eyes. She's thankful for Remus's kind patience with her motion sickness. She waits, preferring instead to see her surroundings through Harry and Draco as her stomach settles.

They're in some sort of graveyard, it seems, outside of a small church. Farther away, outside the fence and down the street, there stands a tall statue of a man, woman, and infant. Leaves litter the ground. The stained glass windows behind them look dull in the light of day and with the church empty. Sirius stands clutching Sirius's arm now, full of sorrow, while Draco hastily lets go of Tonks's arm.

"Where are we?" Draco asks warily as Aveline finally opens her eyes to see for herself.

"This is Godric's Hallow," Sirius explains. His voice is rough with an emotion Aveline can't quite identify. Pain? Longing? "It's where Harry and his parents lived, before…"

Grief slices through Harry's chest. As one, Draco and Aveline move to flank him, their hands slipping into his. Remus gestures toward the back of the graveyard, and slowly they pick their way, Tonks murmuring that she'll wait inside the church.

The tombstone is white marble, engraved with _James Potter_ and _Lily Evans Potter_. Their birthdays and death-day is carved below them along with a quote and intricate vines along the edges. The carved images look newer than the words and dates themselves; interwoven with the vines on Lily's side are lilies, petunias, and what looks like rosemary. On James's, the vines become thicker, partially obscuring a wolf, a dog, and a stag.

Sirius clears his throat. "Harry, you've been here to the cemetery before, of course, but Draco and Aveline never have. I thought they might like to help us pay our respects this year."

Silently, Draco and Aveline nod. As one, the three of them lift their wands and combine their magic. Draco and Aveline's spells follow Harry's lead; he murmurs quietly, and a wreath of lilies lies on his mother's side. A wreath of woven willow lies on his father's.

They pretend not to notice Remus brushing away tears.

"I added the carvings after my name was cleared," Sirius shrugs, swallowing hard. "It just seemed so plain, the first time I brought Harry to visit. Dumbledore did a fantastic job, picking it out, of course, but he didn't know them like we did."

"Your Animagus forms," Aveline murmurs, eyes on the moving carved animals that skitter down the vines to frolic along the edge of the wreath.

"Yes," Remus nods, "as well as Lily's lilies. James used to buy her lilies for every occasion. Sometimes just because he could, before they went into hiding. Her sister, of course, is your aunt Pentunia, Harry… and their mother was Rosemary."

" _The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death,"_ Aveline reads. "I thought that was a Death Eater motto?"

Sirius's face darkens. "It wasn't always. It is much older."

Together, they turn away. Aveline and Draco feel Harry's expectations that now they will go, but Sirius stops them. "I've never taken Harry to their old cottage. I didn't want him to see and be upset. But if you'd like, Harry, I think you're old enough now. Besides, there are thirteen escaped Death Eaters on the loose. You should know the type of person they choose to follow."

Together, they walk through the quiet streets of Godric's Hallow, passed other small cottages and Tudor storefronts and tiny alleyway gardens. Harry had always kept this place in a quiet locked corner of his mind, and Draco and Aveline had never pried. Now, the pain lances through each of them, somehow magnified and soothed three times over.

The crumbling ruins of a small home, nestled against trees and the dividing fence of neighbors, comes into view. The blackened, charred remains are a stark contrast to the quaintness of the street. More than half of the home had been blown to bits, leaving only support structures and jagged rafters.

"No one is allowed to photograph this place for any sort of profit, such as book publishing," Remus says quietly. "So you wouldn't have seen it. But, look. It's not all bad."

And there, shimmering in the sun on the ruins, in multi-colored ink, are messages of varying ages proclaiming their love and gratitude.

 _We love you, Harry!_

 _We're so sorry, Potter family._

 _We Miss You!_

 _Lots of love, Lily_

 _Goodbye and thanks, James_

 _We're with you, Harry!_

Harry begins to cry, his end of their link filled with more emotions than can be counted, and his soul mates don't bother to hide their own tears.


End file.
